The Princess and the Scholar
by GoodShipSherlollipop
Summary: Molly Holmes dreams she is a princess in a Barbara Cartland novel and that Sherlock is a prince, the younger brother of King Mycroft with whom she is being forced into marriage by her wicked and cruel step-father Prince Culverton. Sequel to "Forced to Marry." Sensual, but not explicit.
1. Prologue

**Athor's note:** This story would not have happened if I had not seen a manip on Tumblr by cumbercougars (lunacatd here). It looked very much like the title of a Barbara Cartland novel, although it actually is not. I immediately had an idea for a story and here it is. So, thank you for the inspiration. Thanks also to simplyshelbs16 for directing me to the image in the first place! I hope you will enjoy Molly's dream.

* * *

 **PROLOGUE**

Molly Holmes was having a terrible day. For almost two weeks now, she had been suffering acute morning sickness. Some days were worse than others, and this was one of them. Every twenty minutes without fail, she had been sick in the plastic container her husband had given her. Running to the bathroom was simply not an option, Sherlock had told her, when the nausea hit so frequently.

The detective had been wonderful, plying her with glasses of water, flat lemonade and Ritz crackers for her to eat between the episodes of uncontrollable nausea.

"You need to keep something in your stomach, or you will just be bringing up bile from it," he had told her practically. From the moment she had informed him of her pregnancy, the sleuth had spent endless hours online, researching pregnancy and its early symptoms.

Only two days after she had made the happy announcement, Sherlock had asked, "Are your nipples tender?"

"Actually they are. How did you know?"

"Besides the fact that you've been wincing when I touch them or try to kiss them?" he asked.

"Oh. I hadn't realized," she said in embarrassment. "Now that you mention it, they have been particularly sensitive of late. Usually they get that way after I ovulate, until my monthly visitor arrives, but this time they've continued to feel sensitive. I suppose that was probably the first sign I was pregnant, after my missed period of course."

"Yet you still waited three days to do the pregnancy test, even though I deduced it might be the case."

"I wanted to be sure it would be accurate. Anyway, the blood test Kaitlyn did confirmed it. She was so excited for us. I made her promise not to tell anyone about it though, until we're ready. Anyway, you still didn't explain about recognizing my sensitivity as a symptom of pregnancy."

The detective flushed slightly. "I looked up 'symptoms of early pregnancy' online."

"Were you worried it might be a false positive?"

Sherlock flushed again. "I was hoping it wasn't. You know I expressed my concerns during our engagement that perhaps I might not be - fertile, after my previous drug usage."

"And I told you God would work things out, and so He has." She patted her husband's hand, and they had gone on to talk of other things.

Molly remembered clearly the first time the morning sickness had hit. Sherlock had been telling her about this long dream he'd had. Unable to sleep the night before, because she was on nightshift, he had texted her. She had recommended he read a book. It always worked for her.

For some unaccountable reason, Sherlock had chosen one of her Barbara Cartland romances. After reading it, he had dreamed himself into the role of being a Marquis who was forced to marry someone he'd never met for her money. Of course, the heroine was Molly herself, and the couple had embarked on a long journey that led to love and eventually, happiness.

Mid-dream, Molly had arrived home from work and found her husband sprawled on the bed, completely naked, bedcovers on the floor, so she had decided to join him and get some sleep. Sherlock had awoken, in a very tense moment of his dream, as Molly had heard him talking in his sleep, and she had tried to comfort him. The result had been a very passionate, fiery encounter between them, where her husband had seemed desperate to know she was real, and they were safe.

They had both slept and when next they awoke, they had made love again before Sherlock began to recount his dream. It was while he was telling her about it, that the first wave of nausea had hit, and she had fled to the bathroom to rid her stomach of all its contents. That was when she had discovered her detective had been thoroughly researching pregnancy, as he offered her well-known "remedies" for morning sickness, crackers and flat lemonade, as well as water for hydration.

Right now, there were two opened bottles of lemonade that Sherlock had removed the caps from, to allow the carbonation to dissipate. On a day like this though, no sooner were the crackers eaten, and water or lemonade drunk, than the nausea hit once more, and she was bringing up her stomach's contents again. Her husband was absolutely correct though. If she didn't drink or eat, the urge to be sick still came upon her and she would dry heave the nasty, bitter tasting yellow bile, which was far worse than expelling the savoury biscuits.

Her husband had been particularly solicitous on this bad day, and the one occasion previously when the nausea was an almost constant presence, refusing to take any cases, or putting off ones he had scheduled. Poor Molly had had to take her second day off work today, because of it. There was absolutely no way she could work when she was being sick every twenty minutes. When it was only the occasional bout of nausea, she managed, although Mike Stamford had reassigned her post-mortems for the time being, because they required undivided attention.

Molly's most embarrassing moment to date had been a couple days earlier, when Mycroft had arrived out of the blue, bearing a baby Doppler monitor for them as a gift. Sherlock had been unable to resist the temptation of boasting to his brother that he was going to be a father, only two days after Molly had started getting sick. When Molly asked her husband why he felt the need to tell Mycroft so soon, before anyone else, he had answered,

"Mycroft gave me such a hard time about us wanting to wait till our wedding night to consummate our relationship , and he gave me such grief about being a forty year old virgin, that I had to throw it in his face that I could actually perform the act, and get you pregnant as well."

Molly had laughed so much she had almost cried. There was always a sense of rivalry between the two men, and she knew Sherlock was rather proud of the fact that he was going to be a father, unlike his brother who, despite several liaisons had managed to avoid acquiring any progeny.

The day Mycroft had visited, Molly had had to excuse herself abruptly to run for the toilet. She suspected, although Sherlock had never said so, that her husband was rather proud of the "evidence" that corroborated his claim to his brother that she was with child.

Sherlock had spent the entire day sitting with her on the sofa, attending to her needs. He had even braided her hair to keep it out if her face, (something he had learned how to do during a "lonely night on Google" as John would say, although really it it was YouTube and during the day) when she had been at work and he had been between cases during their engagement.

Finally though, at almost midnight, Molly sent Sherlock to bed. Upon her instructions, he brought down a Barbara Cartland novel from the spare room for her to re-read. The nausea was not as frequent, and Molly thought she'd try to read for awhile, and wait to feel better, before going to bed herself. She'd always been a fan of Barbara Cartland's stories, the romance, the descriptions of opulence and high society. She loved reading about the nobility, especially those from the Victorian era, and the style of dress worn in those days, corsets and big skirts with petticoats or crinolines.

Only Sherlock really knew the depths of Molly's romantic soul. At work she was all practical and businesslike, with him, her closet romantic exposed itself. Her husband was a very willing recipient. Every time she re-read one of her novels now, she pictured the hero looking exactly like Sherlock, and herself as the heroine. It was eminently satisfying.

In fact, Molly thought, her husband could easily play the role of a dashing nobleman. He was so incredibly handsome, and tall, as well as elegant when he dressed in his suit. She could definitely imagine Sherlock in the clothes of a 19th century Lord, or Marquis, as he had dreamed. In fact, the pathologist was half-hoping that reading a novel before bed might prompt a vivid dream, the way It had prompted Sherlock's a couple weeks earlier.

Molly relaxed on the sofa, reading her novel. After an hour without feeling any nausea, and with her eyes feeling heavy, she at last put the book down and got ready for bed, taking off all her clothes and sliding in next to her husband's warm, and also unclothed body.

He made a little grunt, waking enough to fold her into his embrace, placing his hand in a possessive fashion gently over her breast, as usual.

Molly closed her eyes, feeling contentment and fatigue sweep over her. She slept and got her wish. She began to dream.

* * *

 **Author's note:** If you follow my other work, this story fits into my single universe. Chronologically speaking, it takes place after "A Journey to Love and Faith" (which is an ongoing story detailing Sherlock and Molly's engagement) and "Forced to Marry."

The experience of extreme nausea and being sick every twenty minutes is not something I made up. I experienced it myself, so I can describe it in accurate detail.

If you find this interesting enough to follow or favourite, please do take the time to review. I love to read people's opinions, and I always respond to them.

I am a very quick updater, so you should be able to follow the story easily and not forget what is happening. If you are looking for explicit content you will not find it with me. My style is to portray the very romantic, sensual side of the true love and commitment shared by Sherlock and Molly, without using explicit language for body parts, nor the extreme swear words.

 **-GoodShipSherlollipop**


	2. A Princess in Distress

Princess Amelia von Hooperstein screamed as the cruel whip bit into her flesh for a third time. Despite the muslin of her gown, it was of little protection to her back.

"Let that be a lesson to you for your defiance,." snarled her step-father, Prince Culverton Smith, as she cowered at his feet. "I will leave you now and see you at dinner time, once you've had a chance to reconsider your position."

The man walked out of the drawing room as he spoke, leaving the princess crouching on the floor in agony.

Princess Amelia, known as Molly to her friends, knew she should not have tried to talk back to him. This was not the first, nor would it be the last time he punished her for insubordination. It would continue to happen as long as she remained under his roof.

After some time Molly got to her feet and walked slowly and painfully to her bedchamber. As soon as she entered, she pulled the bell rope to summon her lady's maid, Kaitlyn, before crawling onto her bed and laying on her stomach.

Shortly thereafter, Kaitlyn arrived. Seeing the state of her ruined gown, and the blood that had soaked through it , the lady's maid exclaimed, "Your Highness! How could you allow him to do this to you again? This is the third gown your step-father has ruined this month!"

The princess raised a tear-stained face to her lady's-maid, who was also her best friend and closest confidante. "I didn't mean for it to happen. He just shocked me, and I reacted to it."

"Come, let me help you out of your gown before the scabs form, and you start bleeding again."

Molly knew her friend was right to make haste with removing her gown. On the first occasion her step-father had beaten her, she had been too ashamed to call for her lady's maid for several hours. Removing her gown that day had been excruciating, as the wounds had reopened and she had bled again.

Now, Kaitlyn, with the utmost gentleness, helped the princess to undress. Molly only whimpered once from the pain. There was a pot of ointment on the dressing table that Kaitlyn used for the purpose of soothing her wounds. It was the one thing Molly's mother had managed to smuggle into the castle for her, at great risk to her own safety.

"Kaitlyn, can you come back later?" she asked her lady's maid, after the woman had finished applying the ointment. "For now I just need to rest before dinner."

"Yes, Your Highness," responded the lady's maid, bobbing a curtsey before leaving the room. She had removed the princess's corset and petticoats as well as gown, and the princess now wore only her drawers. She would have to wear a gown again for dinner, but for now her skin needed no further chafing.

Princess Amelia sat with her head bowed and eyes closed, thinking about the events of the past several months.

Until her father King David's death a year ago, the princess's life had been one of luxury and happiness. The king and queen of Bartonia had doted on their only daughter. She had been spoiled and pampered. They had paid for her to have a thorough education, and she had found she had an affinity for the sciences, especially in the field of chemistry.

The king and queen had even renovated one of the many bedchambers in the castle into her very own laboratory. The princess had spent many an hour lost in conducting experiments on various chemicals, reading books and periodicalson the latest findings in medicine and also science. In her leisure time, the princess read novels and other types of literature.

As the princess had grown older, she had had several offers of marriage from noblemen, but had refused them all. The king and queen had never pressured her to marry, and thus it was she was still unwed at the advanced age of twenty six. She had begun to despair of ever finding someone with whom she would share the same love as that which her parents had found together.

It had been almost a year ago when King David had suffered a fatal fall in a hunting accident. A rabbit had run out in front of his horse and it had reared, causing the king to be thrown from the horse's saddle. Death had been instantaneous, a broken neck. Queen Ruth and her daughter had been devastated. Molly's parents had shared a deep love, and it was something their daughter desperately yearned for, for herself.

Things had changed six months ago, when the Duke of Appledore, named Culverton Smith had wooed the grieving queen. He had brought her gifts, plied her with compliments, and the grieving widow, thinking her daughter needed a father figure had agreed to marry him three months later.

As soon as the ring was on his finger, the new royal consort, now Prince Culverton by virtue of his marriage, showed his true colours. First he began to beat his new wife if she did not immediately follow his orders. Princess Amelia had been horrified to see her mother brought low by the blackguard. When the queen learned her lesson and became entirely submissive to the new prince's every whim, he had transferred his sadistic tendencies to his step-daughter.

The princess had a mind of her own, and her free spirit meant that her step-father delighted in torturing her. Sometimes he would use a riding crop on her, but his favourite method was a whip, because it drew blood. His eyes would glitter with malice at that, and he derived the most satisfaction when he cause the princess to cry out from the pain. Molly was certain his intention was to get rid of her, one way or another.

Today she had finally seen the proof of it. The prince had entered the drawing room to speak with her.

"Amelia, word has been going around that King Mycroft of Bakeristan is seeking a wife. I took the liberty of informing his royal advisors that you were available. Word cane to me today that he has accepted my proposal. You are to travel to Bakeristan and your betrothal shall be announced shortly afterwards. We will leave tomorrow for the two day journey. You should be glad of this advantageous match. It will unite our two countries and consolidate our alliance."

"I cannot marry King Mycroft," expostulated the princess. "He is ten years my senior, and is well known for his many liaisons. I want to marry a man I love."

"Love!" spat the prince. "What do you know of love?"

"Mama and Papa loved each other," retorted the princess.

"Do not EVER speak of your father in my presence, do you hear?" snarled Prince Culverton, taking out his whip, which he always kept on his person.

"No, please don't," begged the princess to no avail.

The man struck her with the whip and she cried out. Despite the pain, she tried to speak again. "You can't really expect me to marry a man I've never met, can you?"

"Of course I can, foolish girl. You should be thanking God on your knees that you will have such a powerful position. You have been a thorn in my side from the moment I married your mother. You probably whisper horrid things in her ear about me."

He struck her again. "No," Molly sobbed. "I have said nothing. I never even get to speak with her alone."

"Then how is it she was able to procure an ointment for your back? I have already punished her for her little act of defiance."

The princess gave him a horrified look. "You are a beast, and I will not go meekly to the altar!"

That was when her step-father had lashed her for the third time.

Now, as Molly sat in her bedchamber she began to think about things. If she could just get away from her step-father's clutches, maybe she would be able to somehow avoid marrying the king and run away, she knew not where, but any place would be an improvement over this miserable existence.

Thus it was that when Princess Amelia went downstairs for dinner, she sat at the table and looked at her step-father. The queen sat beside him, looking miserable. Her shoulders were hunched and she looked pitifully at her daughter.

"I will do as you ask, Step-Papa. I will marry King Mycroft."

"I am glad you have reconsidered your position, Amelia," said the man.

Molly noticed her mother's small smile, and she felt instinctively that her mother was glad she would be escaping the prince's clutches.

"We shall leave, as I said, on the morrow. You may take your lady's maid with you. I, of course, will be coming along with my valet to make sure things are properly settled for the wedding."

The princess's heart sank at this. She had not thought her step-father would leave the castle. At least she could take Kaitlyn with her, which was some consolation.

By the expression on Queen Ruth's face, she had not known her husband would travel with her daughter to Bakeristan.

"Culverton, dear, why must you travel with Amelia? Surely your duties here are more important, and you can find someone else to convey her to Bakeristan?"

The prince turned to his wife with a baleful glare. "Did I give you permission to speak?"

"No, my dear. I am sorry."

Molly could see the tears in her mother's eyes.

"It will be alright Mama," she said. "Kaitlyn will be with me. I am sure we will have an uneventful journey. I will write to you once we have arrived safely." She had to be brave, for her mother's sake.

"Yes darling," the distraught queen murmured.

At the conclusion of dinner, Prince Culverton said, "You had better make sure your lady's maid packs everything you need. You are indeed a fortunate girl. The king has also agreed to provide you with a trousseau, therefore you will only need a few gowns for the journey. Make sure your lady's maid knows we are leaving at seven on the morrow."

"Yes, Step-Papa," the princess said meekly. "May I at least say farewell to my mother?"

"Very well, but make haste," the prince responded.

Molly went over to her mother and hugged her. She heard her mother's whisper. "I am sorry, my dear. I wish I could protect you." Aloud she said, "God go with you, my child. I wish you happiness."

Princess Amelia blinked back tears. "Shall I see you at the wedding?" **_If it happens,_** she said to herself silently.

"I shall make every effort to attend, if my husband will allow it."

"We shall see," said the prince, and Molly felt he would certainly prefer that the mother and daughter not see each other again.

"I love you Mama." The tears began to flow down her cheeks.

"I love you too, darling," said the queen, and tears coursed down her own wan cheeks.

Back in her bedchamber, Princess Amelia informed her lady's maid of the day's events.

"At least you will be away from your step-father if you are married," said Kaitlyn pragmatically. "Perhaps the king will not be so bad. Perhaps you will fall in love. You have never met him, have you? Maybe he is handsome."

Molly sighed. "I have heard his hair is thinning already and that he is rather homely."

"Then we will find a way for you to escape both your step-father and the king before the wedding," declared her friend, and the princess was grateful that at least she would have one ally in the castle they were travelling towards the next day.

Kaitlyn packed her clothes, making sure to also pack the precious jar of ointment as well.

At seven o'clock the next morning, Princess Amelia was on her way to her uncertain future.

* * *

 **Author's note:** So the dream has begun. What do you think about the princess's beast of a step-father? What do you think about Molly having her own laboratory?

Are you ready for a long, angst-filled story? Please show your support for my story by posting a review. I appreciate them and always respond.


	3. Wanted - A Royal Wife

Prince Sherlock was at his usual place in the enormous castle library when his brother, King Mycroft entered. He was so absorbed in reading the latest science periodical, that he only looked up after his brother began to speak.

"Well, brother mine, you might as well congratulate me. It appears my advisors have procured a princess for me to wed."

"What?" asked the prince in astonishment. "I didn't even know you were anxious to wed."

"I'm not," responded the king, "but Mother is. You know what she is like. She has been plaguing me this past six months to find a bride, insisting I must have an heir to ensure the royal succession. My advisors have been making inquiries on my behalf for two months now, to find a suitable bride."

"Well, I am certainly glad I am the second son and of no consequence. I hope Mother will never plague me to take a wife. I am already married - to my work."

"I would gladly abdicate my title if you would take a wife instead. You know I have no desire to marry either."

"I could never deal with the responsibilities of being a king. Besides, the fairer sex repels me, with their constant spouting of inanities and other things of no consequence."

"I just don't understand it," complained King Mycroft. "You have women throwing themselves at you all the time. What became of the Lady Irene Adler? She was making sheep's eyes at you during the ball last month."

"I'll admit that Lady Irene is quite a beauty. She is no innocent however. I have it on good authority that she has bedded half the men in our royal guard."

"Perhaps she could teach you a few things then. Why wed her if you can bed her for free?" The king laughed at his own joke.

"Mycroft, there is no need to make fun of the fact that I have not been with a woman. At least you are the only one who knows. The courtesan Janine did me a favour when she spread rumours about how successful she was at bedding me on multiple occasions."

"Well of course, she could hardly admit that her famous skills at seduction were unsuccessful on you. Don't you ever entertain the thought of being with a woman? Have you truly never felt any desire for one?"

Prince Sherlock shrugged. "If I haven't yet, at the age of twenty nine, I suppose I shall never do so. I am quite content with my books."

"It is a pity. You are much better-looking than I. In fact, if you married, Mother would not be so determined to see me wed."

The prince sighed. "Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with us? I cannot feel desire for any woman, while you are content to just bed them without your affections being engaged."

"Perhaps. Yet now it seems I must, at the very least, take a wife just to please Mother."

"Sorry, Mycroft, you were born first, therefore the future of Bakeristan rests squarely on your shoulders. Now tell me about this princess to whom you are to be wed."

"She is the only child of King David and Queen Ruth of Bartonia."

"Why have we not heard that there was an eligible princess available in such a close neighbour as Bartonia?" questioned the prince. He was sure he had never heard of her.

"My advisors informed me she has led a very pampered, yet solitary life and has never left Bartonia. Her parents had a love match, so were not willing to marry her off to the highest bidder. I had heard of her,but I suppose because of her parents, she was never actively put on the marriage market. Actually, I assumed she had some sort of deformity, which is why she was kept so sheltered. Apparently, I was mistaken."

"Why is her current situation different? Is she of such an advanced age, they changed their minds?"

"Do you really have your nose so deep in your books that you did not hear about King David's death in a hunting accident almost a year ago?"

"Why would I have? I do not concern myself with the affairs of other countries. That's your job," replied the younger man.

"You disappoint me, brother mine. Six months ago, Queen Ruth married again. It appears her new husband does not share the same views about pampering the princess and indulging her every whim. The Royal Consort's advisors approached mine a few days ago. Apparently he had heard I was in need of a wife, preferably one of royal blood."

"So you offered for her, without setting eyes on her first?"

"Royal princesses seem to be in short supply," the king replied dryly. "I do not care about her appearance. I shall bed her until she is with child, then return to my mistress to warm my bed."

"Mycroft, doesn't your wife deserve your fidelity?"

"How romantic and old-fashioned of you. Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock."

"All I can say is, my sympathies lie with your intended bride. You truly do have but ice flowing through your veins."

"Is that sentiment speaking, Sherlock?"

"No, it's me."

"Well you had best keep it to yourself."

"Very well, Your Majesty, " said the prince sarcastically.

"Oh, stop it, Sherlock. Actually I came in here tonight for two reasons."

"Why do I have the feeling this will not be to my liking?"

The king cringed. "You're probably quite correct in your assumption. Of course, the first reason was to tell you I am to be married. The other is..." he hesitated, nervousness showing in his eyes for the first time.

Prince Sherlock tapped his foot impatiently. "I'd really like to return to my reading, so make haste!"

"Well, the thing is, the princess will be arriving the day after tomorrow. I have agreed she may stay here until the wedding with her lady's maid, as well as the prince and his valet. I agreed also to provide her with a trousseau. To her step-father, I have also agreed to pay what is truly an amount comparable to that of extortion."

"Then perhaps you should have turned him down."

"it is of no consequence. We have more wealth than any other country I am aware of. The princess meets the criteria and Mother will be happy. Anyway, as I was saying before you interrupted me - the princess will be arriving day after next. I will be on hand of course to greet her, but Immediately afterward I must head north. There is talk of an uprising, and I need to be there to assure my people I care for their welfare."

"By the heavens, are you about to suggest I see to the princess's comfort while you are gone?" asked the prince, with irritation evident in his tone.

"Well deduced, brother mine. Will you do it? I really do not wish to order it of you."

Prince Sherlock sighed heavily. "It appears I have no choice. I can only hope she is educated enough to form a coherent thought, unlike most of the women in these parts."

"Don't be obtuse, Sherlock. She's a princess, not a country maiden. I am sure she has had a good deal of education."

"Must I be with you when she arrives, then?"

"That would be my preference. I should like to introduce myself, then you. I will explain that I must head north for a few days to settle some boundary dispute."

"Very well. Your wish is my command, Your Majesty."

The king glared at his brother, then unexpectedly smiled. "You never know, Sherlock. It might be nice for you to spend some quality time with a woman. I shall see you tomorrow."

"See you then." After the king had departed, Prince Sherlock tried to return to his perusal of the periodical, but his thoughts were distracted.

He was definitely not looking forward to meeting the strange princess. He not only disliked women, he felt uncomfortable in their presence. Women were so...different from men. Janine had attempted to seduce him, and he had been repulsed. She had spoken words of lust, things she wanted him to do to her, to her body. She may have been an attractive woman, but she was cold and calculating. He assumed that was the way most women were, or became. Love matches were few and far between. He was very glad to not have the responsibility of needing an heir for the sake of the kingdom's future.

The prince steepled his fingers and closed his eyes. He attempted to retreat into his mind palace for some solitude, but to no avail. He was nervous about what the near future held.

Finally, he gave up trying to read and went to his bedchamber, where he fell into a troubled sleep.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Did you recognize the canon bits I wove into the scene? Show off your knowledge of the show and say what you noticed!

How do you find the idea of Sherlock being a studious scholar?Did you enjoy his interaction with Mycroft?

I think I might only update this twice a week, rather than three times, unless people really want it more often, because I have other ongoing stories as well to keep up with. I really appreciate feedback. Please don't just follow the story and keep your opinion to yourself. The reviews motivate me to work harder and publish faster. If you write yourself, you will understand the work involved in writing upwards of 5000 words a day between different stories. And you will also understand the constant aching shoulders and hand/arm pain to keep it up!


	4. The Reluctant Bride

The closer they got to Holmes Castle, the more apprehensive Princess Molly became.

Her step-father spent almost the entire journey instructing her how to behave. She was to be meek, submissive and deferential to the king, as befitted all women. She was to address him as "Your Majesty" in public and do whatever he asked.

Molly was discovering more clearly what a tyrant Culverton Smith really was. He gloated constantly about how clever he had been. To offer her as a bride to King Mycroft, and how much wealth he would acquire as a result. The way he spoke made the princess realize how tormented her mother must be, from having the perfect love and marriage, to being abused by a sick, vindictive man who took pleasure in inflicting pain on others.

The princess had seen that she and her mother were by no means his only victims as well. At one point, they had stopped for a meal at a posting inn. When the coachmen was two minutes late in returning to the carriage, the prince had taken out his whip and struck the man twice around the shoulders snarling, "Perhaps that will teach you to be punctual in future."

The prince had a vile temper and Princess Molly felt as if she must constantly tiptoe around her step-father, in order to not incur his wrath. She was disappointed that her lady's maid was not permitted to travel with them, but was in the second carriage with the prince's valet, which also contained their luggage, most of which belonged to the prince. In a way though, the princess thought drearily, it was as well that Kaitlyn was not in the same carriage. Who knew if her vile step-father might decide to turn his sadistic intentions upon her?

As it was, Molly had twice more been subjected to painful blows by her step-father's whip, just for "speaking out of turn." Both times she had merely requested more information about her future husband. It seemed however, her best option was to remain silent. She would find out those things when they arrived at the castle.

Just as the princess grew more travel weary as time passed, so did the man traveling with her. It was therefore, in the end, somewhat of a relief to finally reach their destination.

One of the outriders had been sent ahead to inform the royal household of their impending arrival. The princess was certain her step-father was looking forward to being treated with respect from another royal family. After all, he would become the "father-in-law," as it were, of a king. The reflected glory would make him even more pompous and self-important than he already was.

It was with a feeling of trepidation that the princess felt the carriage finally pulling to a stop in front of the castle. Molly had spent some time gazing out of the window of the carriage as the castle came into sight. It was a beautiful, if imposing sight. Holmes Castle was much larger than the castle in which she had grown up. Of course, Bartonia was a much smaller kingdom than that of Bakeristan, with fewer subjects.

The princess knew about the larger kingdom, at least to some extent. As part of her education she had learned about the neighbouring countries, and their various forms of government. She was familiar with the name King Mycroft, who had been the ruler for ten years. In fact, it was rather surprising he had not taken a wife before this. She also had a vague notion that there was a younger brother.

The door of the carriage was pulled open and Prince Culverton alighted first. Then, the coachman helped Princess Molly out of the carriage. She climbed out, feeling stiffness in her shoulders and a stinging sensation along her back, where her healing wounds had been chafing for so long in her travelling gown.

As she finally stepped to the ground, she kept her head down, as her step-father had instructed. She was not to lift her head until the prince introduced her to her husband-to-be.

As she had alighted from the carriage, the princess had afforded herself a quick glance at the waiting entourage. There seemed to be a large one, probably mostly consisting of the king's advisors, but she had not had a proper glimpse of anyone before lowering her eyes.

The princess followed in the prince's wake until he stopped. She too halted and waited.

'"Your Majesty," said Prince Culverton in an obsequious tone. "I am Prince Culverton. May I introduce you to my daughter, Princess Amelia von Hooperstein?"

 ** _You are not my father_** , thought Molly bitterly. **_You are my step-father._** He probably thought it sounded more paternal to refer to her as his daughter.

Molly raised her eyes to look upon the King's countenance for the first time. He was tall, but not particularly handsome. His hair was already thinning on top slightly and he had a broad nose. He had kind eyes however.

She dropped a deep curtsey. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty."

As she rose, the king took her hand and lifted it to his lips for a perfunctory kiss. "I am pleased to meet you as well, Princess Amelia. How was your journey?"

Although she would have liked to tell him the journey had been long and uncomfortable, her step-father had informed her she must never show any sign of disagreeableness or annoyance. Therefore she replied with a, "Very good, Your Majesty," and a forced smile.

To her surprise, the king said, "Now may I present you to my brother, Prince William?" Another man, who had been standing to the side of, and slightly behind the king stepped for ward and bowed.

Her first glimpse was of a head of dark curly hair that fell across his forehead. As he raised his head she saw a pair of piercing blue-green eyes looking at her, and her heart lurched.

He was clearly the handsomest man she had ever seen, and it took her a few moments to regain her senses enough to curtsey to him, saying softly, "Your Highness."

"Princess," he murmured in a rich baritone that made a curious thrill run through her. Following his brother's lead, he raised her hand to his lips and she felt herself quiver slightly as his lips touched her skin.

He held her hand a little longer than necessary, but dropped it as soon as Prince Culverton broke in with, "A pleasure to meet you too, Prince William."

The prince inclined his head, then said, "My first name is William, but I have always gone by Sherlock, despite my brother's insistence on using my formal title when introducing me."

"Prince Sherlock, then," agreed the princess's step-father a little too heartily.

Princess Molly's attention returned to King Mycroft as he spoke. "I regret to inform you, Princess Amelia, that I must leave for a few days to take care of some urgent business in the north. I am, however, leaving you in good hands. My brother, William - or Sherlock if you prefer," he indicated his brother, "has agreed to look to your welfare while I am absent."

Princess Molly looked over again at the prince. He was still staring at her, as if he could see through her, and she felt vaguely uncomfortable. His eyes were so incredible, and those full, sensual lips...she caught herself suddenly. That was a very bad idea. She definitely did not need to complicate her life further by developing an attraction for the man who was to be her brother-in-law.

"Thank you for telling me, Your Majesty," she said, curtseying once again to her prospective bridegroom. "I wish you Godspeed and a safe return."

"Thank you." The king bowed and turned away. He headed straight for a carriage the princess had not noticed before, that bore the Royal emblem of Bakeristan,apparently to begin his journey immediately. Prince Sherlock was the only person to remain, obviously to show her into the castle, along with her step-father.

"Would you both come with me? I am sure you must be fatigued after your journey. I will show you to the bedchambers which have been prepared for you," said the prince courteously , gesturing for Prince Culverton to precede him. As for the princess, he laid a gentle hand against her waist, to guide her towards the entrance of the castle.

Princess Molly looked at him. He was still looking at her, and she blushed at his assessing gaze. "My lady's maid should be arriving with Prince Culverton's valet shortly. Will there be someone available to gain them entrance?"

"Of course. I shall speak to the butler as soon as we enter the castle."

As the trio reached the huge doors of the castle, they opened. The butler stood waiting.

After the three entered, Prince Sherlock said, "Please allow me a moment to speak with the butler."

He gave quick instructions that a watch was to be kept for the second carriage, and that the lady's maid and valet were to be shown to the servants' quarters upon arrival. They would be informed about which bell corresponded to their master or mistress's bedchamber.

The young prince then turned towards the travel weary pair. "Until your servants arrive, I will send someone up to your bedchambers to tend to you. You may wish to have a rest before luncheon as well."

Leading the pair upstairs, Prince Sherlock showed them to the east wing where there were several bedchambers. There was one which had been prepared for Prince Culverton's arrival.

Prince Sherlock opened the door to the chamber and indicated that the older man should enter. "I hope you will be comfortable here. I will send somebody up to help you undress as soon as I have taken the princess to her bedchamber."

Molly had a glimpse of a very large room, in which a fire was burning. It appeared to be the same size as that of the chambers in her family's castle.

Almost as if he expected the princess to behave badly once he was out of her sight, Prince Culverton said, "Don't forget your lessons, Amelia. I would not like to have to repeat them to you," before entering his bedchamber and closing the door.

The princess shuddered involuntarily at the words. She knew her step-father's "lessons" would consist of more lashes with his whip, or perhaps a thin stick that would sting but not leave an outward sign on her gown.

The young prince apparently had noticed her shudder for he asked, "Are you unwell, Princess Amelia? Are you finding the castle to be too cold for your liking? I will make sure the fire is stoked in your bedchamber."

"I am perfectly fine," assured the princess. "I am rather fatigued however, as you surmised. Such a long journey is quite arduous and wearing on the constitution."

They were moving towards what Molly perceived to be the west wing as they spoke. She glanced at the prince again shyly, only to find him once again looking at her intently. It was quite unnerving. She wondered if perhaps she had a smudge on her cheek, or some such thing at which he was staring, and suddenly felt self-conscious. It was amazing how he could walk to where he needed to go, without taking his eyes off her.

As they reached the wing, Prince Sherlock indicated a chamber to her left. "This will become your bedchamber once you are married. It connects with the king's room next door, of course. My mother currently occupies it, but will move to another room soon." He walked further along the corridor., indicating a room on the other side. "That is my bedchamber, should you have urgent need of me."

He stopped at the door beyond. "This is your temporary bedchamber. It is the most luxurious of the unoccupied chambers. Although it actually has a communicating door to my own bedchamber, the door will be locked of course. The key for the door is in the drawer of your dressing table in case of an emergency."

The prince opened the door to the bedchamber and Princess Molly gasped. It was bigger than her own bedchamber in Bartonia, and much more luxurious. There was a canopy bed with ornate hangings draped over it, which could be drawn together. A fire was also burning brightly, the warmth of which Moly felt immediately. She hadn't realized it before, but she did feel somewhat chilled, and she moved closer towards it, with her fingers held out towards its warmth.

She turned back towards the young prince and said, "Thank you, Prince...Sherlock. I will certainly be most comfortable here."

"I will go downstairs now and procure a temporary maid for you, Princess Amelia," he said, bowing again.

"Please, would you call me Molly? I detest being called Amelia in private company. I would however ask that you refer to me as Princess Amelia in public...and of course, when my step-father is around."

"I do not hold with formal terms of address outside social situations. I should be most gratified if you would call me Sherlock in private company."

"Very well...Sherlock. I must not be so informal in the presence of my step-father, however. He would not be pleased."

The prince nodded. "Very well, Molly. I will see you at luncheon." He bowed to her, then took her hand, lifting it to his lips once again. That same curious sensation, that tingle, crept through her body at his touch, and she snatched her hand away before he could notice it tremble.

"My thanks once again, Sherlock," she said, bobbing a small curtsey. He appeared somewhat taken aback by the way she had removed her hand from his so abruptly, but he said nothing, merely nodding before he left her bedchamber.

Once he had gone, Molly waited for a maid to come upstairs to assist her. She sat at the dressing table and thought about the events of the past hour. It had not at all been what she expected.

King Mycroft seemed amiable enough, kind even, although he definitely seemed to be in a rush to leave. She wondered what it would be like to be married to him, to have his lips on hers. Involuntarily she shivered. He was undoubtedly well versed in the art of pleasing a woman. At his age he would have had many mistresses. She wondered if he would continue to keep one if they were married. It was common practice for men to have wives to bear children, yet mistresses to warm their bed at night.

Could she be with a man who viewed her only as a vessel from which to produce his heirs? The princess definitely did not want to take that course, although she feared her step-father's retribution should she try and break the betrothal once it was official. Prince Culverton would definitely come after her if she tried to escape. She was his ticket to more wealth, and to be the father-in-law, so to speak, of a king. She was trapped, Molly thought despairingly.

The big surprise however was Prince Sherlock. He and his brother were so different physically. He was tall, like his brother, but that was where the resemblance ended. The prince had the high cheekbones of royalty, while the king's were not as chiseled. The king had quite a large nose, while Prince Sherlock's was thinner and, dare she say it, more aristocratic. The king's hair was thinning which gave him a very broad forehead. Prince Sherlock certainly did not lack for hair. In fact, it was rather endearing the way it curled over his forehead, which was most certainly not a fashionable way to keep it.

Then there were Prince Sherlock's lips. She suddenly wondered what it would be like to feel his lips on hers, rather than those of the king. This time the shiver that passed through the princess was a pleasant one. It frightened her. She had a feeling that the prince could be a distraction, if she allowed him to be, but at what cost? If she reacted with a tingling sensation from the touch of his lips on her hand, how much stronger would that sensation be on her lips?

A maid entered the room just then. She assisted Molly to undress, exclaiming at the scars Molly had on her back. The princess worried that the maid might disclose the news of the state of her back, so she pleaded that the woman keep her secret. The maid agreed not to say anything, but the princess did not know if she was truly trustworthy.

The woman gave her a nightgown to wear, which had been in a drawer of the dressing table. Of course, once the second carriage arrived, the princess would have her own to wear. With only four horses drawing the second carriage, rather than the six for the lead one, it would undoubtedly not arrive until some time after luncheon, and Molly wondered whether she would have to redress in her travelling gown.

After the maid left, Molly walked to the wardrobe and opened it, curious as to whether it was empty. In fact, it was not. Three gowns were there, a morning one, a day gown, and an evening one. They appeared to be in the latest fashion and were apparently new. They must be the first gowns to be made for her trousseau. To have three gowns in the space of two days would have been a miraculous feat, and the princess felt sorry for the seamstresses who must have spent endless hours on sewing the gowns for her. It was a welcome sight however. At least she would have a clean gown for luncheon.

The princess inspected the rest of the bedchamber, finding, as Prince Sherlock had said, a key to the communicating door in the top drawer of the dressing table. There was also a full length looking glass and a writing desk. Molly thought she might perhaps send a letter to her mother if she had time.

For now though, she decided she needed her rest and climbed into the canopy bed. Within two minutes she was asleep.

* * *

 **Author's note:** What did you think of Molly's first meeting with Sherlock? How long do you think it will be until they fall in love?


	5. The Peril and the Prince

Prince Sherlock left Princess Molly's bedchamber. His face was burning. She had snatched her hand away from his as if his touch repelled her.

As he walked along the hallway of the west wing, on his way to head downstairs, his thoughts were churning and he tried to make sense of them.

Everything had been going just fine this morning. He had dutifully joined his brother to await the arrival of the princess, steeling himself for the boredom of having to be her guide around the castle.

When the carriage had pulled up, his vision of the young princess had been obscured by the unpleasant sight of a man who felt himself to be more important than he truly was. His crooked toothed smile was repulsive, as was the smarmy attitude.

When Mycroft had been introduced to the princess, Prince Sherlock had remained a little behind, not wanting to be subjected to the same false obsequiousness of the new prince of Bartonia. When the man had introduced his step-daughter as his daughter, the prince had been disgusted at the man's attempt to make himself seem a benevolent father. What had surprised Sherlock was the musical sound of the princess's voice when she spoke to the king.

Mycroft had introduced him, and he stepped forward. His heart almost stood still when he saw her. Despite the long journey, she was lovely, not in a traditional way, and he certainly could not explain why he thought so. Soft brown eyes gazed into his own and he was mesmerized. For the first time in his life he felt his heart beat accelerate, as if it had a mind of its own.

After Mycroft had departed, the prince had been anxious to get rid of the step-father so he could speak more with the princess. He had deliberately shown Prince Culverton to his room first. His gaze kept drifting towards the princess, and he could not understand why.

Now, Prince Sherlock realized his steps had carried him to the servants' wing. He was very familiar with this part of the castle, which was not a place usually frequented by the royals. Sherlock however was no ordinary prince. His strange habits of being up in the middle of the night, poring through scientific journals in the library meant that he kept odd hours. He would sometimes venture as far as the kitchens to request nourishment after he had missed a meal or two.

Now though, he requested that a maid and manservant be sent immediately upstairs to tend to the guests until their own servants arrived. Once this was done, the prince retreated to the large library where he spent most of his time, his haven of solitude.

He sat at the large table where so many of his books lay open and in disarray. The servants had been instructed to never touch anything that might be on the table. On this occasion, Prince Sherlock was unable to read. His thoughts turned again to the princes Amelia - no, Molly, he reminded himself. He sat with his fingers steepled as he always did when in silent contemplation, then retreated into his mind palace.

What was it about the princess that affected him so? Even as he thought about it, he felt his breath quicken. Her hair was not a striking colour, but it was a nice shade of brown that complemented her chocolate coloured eyes. It was fashioned into a neat chignon for the journey, and he wondered what it would be like if it were unbound. It was rather disturbing, the way he had been unable to look away from her. She was petite, no doubt about that, but her figure was obscured by her travelling cloak, so that did not explain why he had a strange urge to find out what it would be like to kiss her.

It must be her lips, he decided. They looked as if they were made to be kissed. That was rather odd. He had never daydreamed about kissing a woman before. Certainly, the courtesan, Janine had several times pressed her lips to his, intent on getting a response, and he had been unmoved.

Sherlock's mind palace drifted to his conversation with the king two days earlier.

He recalled Mycroft's words. **_Don't you ever entertain the thought of being with a woman? Have you truly never felt any desire for one?_**

Then his own response. **_If I haven't yet, at the age of twenty nine, I suppose I shall never do so._**

Famous last words. Was this feeling, the rush of heat that surged through his body when he thought of the princess, could it be - desire? Feeling desire for the first time for a woman who was betrothed - well not officially betrothed yet, as Mycroft would only present her with a ring upon his return - to his own brother.

Perhaps it was an illusion that would dissipate when he saw her again at luncheon. It was probably all that talk with Mycroft that had affected his psyche.

The prince exited his mind palace and drew out his timepiece from his pocket. It was almost time for luncheon. He sighed and headed for the dining hall.

He entered to find his mother already there, but nobody else.

"Ah, Sherlock, did our guests arrive safely? I must confess I spent most of the morning in bed, due to a ghastly headache. I needed to take some laudunum, the pain was so severe."

The prince walked over and kissed his mother's cheek. "Our guests are here and should be down soon, I expect. Is your headache gone?"

"Thankfully, yes. So tell me, what do you think of the princess?"

Sherlock swallowed. The last thing he wanted to have was a discussion with his mother about the princess. "Er, she seems...very nice," he said, rather lamely.

"Son, I mean, is she fair of face - do you think she will make a fine queen?"

"Mother, you know I have no experience in these matters. I have long been married to my work. Why would I know what you consider a fair countenance?" Except that he did know, but he could never tell his mother that.

The queen mother sighed. "More's the pity, my son. I do so wish you would turn away from your books and find a wife. I have heard there are many fair maidens in the kingdom who would be glad to have you as a husband. There is the Lady Irene..."

"Lady Irene is no fair maiden, I assure you, Mother. You cannot force me to marry as you are doing with Mycroft. He will produce your heirs for you." Even as he thought of Princess Molly bearing his brother's children, he felt a curious sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

"Nevertheless, son, surely the courtesan taught you a few things. I have heard the rumours."

"Mother," he fairly exploded with agitation, "my brother sent the courtesan Janine to my bedchamber. He paid her well to attempt to seduce me, but I refused her advances. Of course, she was not one to admit defeat, so she took great delight in informing people I, a prince, had bedded her."

"Oh," said the elderly woman slowly, "I have been rather remiss then. I was certain you had been with her. I could not understand why you did not subsequently at least take someone as your mistress."

"You should not be speaking to me of these things, Mother," replied the prince tersely, flushing with embarrassment. Now his own mother knew he had never been with a woman.

Fortunately there was no further time for conversation, because the princess and her step-father entered the room. Princess Molly was wearing an attractive gown of azure blue, and for the first time Prince Sherlock was able to see the womanly curves beneath the fabric of her gown. His heart lurched again, and he cursed himself for still reacting to her. Apparently this was not something that was going away anytime soon. She had a look on her face which concerned him. Was it...fear? She had snatched her hand away from him the second time. The first time, when he had kissed it outside the castle, he had felt her hand tremble too. Perhaps he repulsed her. Well, it was understandable. She had come from a neighbouring country and was being bartered, a royal princess in exchange for a princely sum of money. Any maiden could be excused for fearing what the future held.

All these things flashed through Prince Sherlock's mind in a matter of seconds.

While Mycroft was away, the prince would sit at the head of the table. His mother had already seated herself on the left. "Pray, sit here, Princess Amelia," he invited the Bartonian princess, indicating the seat to his right, holding the chair out for her. When the king was not in residence, the servants knew that Prince Sherlock did not hold with formality, otherwise a footman would have been in attendance to assist with seating. Instead, he would ring a bell when their presence was required to serve the meal.

"Prince Culverton, you may sit where you wish," he added.

Luncheon was a quiet affair. The princess did not speak unless spoken to, and seemed meek of manner when she did. Prince Culverton talked of banalities and his own achievements as the royal consort of Queen Ruth. Sherlock's mother merely asked after the health of the two guests. The whole meal was rather an ordeal, and the young prince was relieved when it was over.

At the end of the meal, remembering Mycroft's command that he look after the future queen, Prince Sherlock asked, "May I show you around the castle now, Princess Mo...Amelia?"

He saw that look of fear on her face again, but she merely replied, "Yes, Prince Sherlock. I should very much like to see your home."

"I will accompany you too," announced Prince Culverton genially.

Prince Sherlock looked over at his mother with a pleading expression. Surprisingly, she understood and said, "Oh,Prince Culverton, I was hoping you would come to the drawing room with me so we can become better acquainted. If our two kingdoms are to be allied through marriage, I should like to know more about your lovely country."

"Of course, of course. I would be honoured to learn more about your kingdom as well." replied the older man, although Prince Sherlock noted the dark look he gave the princess. Intuitively the prince felt something was amiss, although he could not deduce what that might be.

The young prince assisted the princess to stand, then led her out of the dining hall. Once they exited the hall, Prince Sherlock noticed that she visibly relaxed. As they walked towards the ballroom he wished to show her first, the prince said conversationally, "I deduce that you and your step-father are not on the best of terms."

The princess kept her eyes averted as she answered simply, "He is a hard man, Prince Sherlock."

"You forget, Molly, that I asked you to just call me Sherlock," he said, as they reached the door to the ballroom, and he opened it. "I believe we are alone at this time, are we not?"

She finally looked at him, and he could see those lovely brown eyes staring into his. "I...I'm sorry, Sherlock. It is difficult for me to be informal. My step-father instructed me very carefully on how I must behave."

The prince suddenly realized he had been mistaken in thinking she feared him. It was her step-father whom she feared, and he wondered why.

Prince Sherlock showed the princess the gallery, where paintings of the various Holmes ancestors hung. The most recent of course was one of King Mycroft when he had ascended the throne. The one beside it showed the late king and his wife, two boys and a girl.

Princess Molly looked at the prince in surprise. "You have a sister?"

The prince nodded. "She is mentally unstable and was taken to an asylum soon after this portrait was finished. She lives in her own world, unable to cmmunicate. My brother and I visit her each month but she has never been able to talk. She can however play the violin beautifully."

"Perhaps she expresses her emotions through music."

"That is possible. On occasion I take my violin to the asylum and we play together."

"Oh, you play violin as well? How wonderful!"

"Actually I am privileged to own a Stradivarius violin."

"You must play for me sometime," enthused Princess Molly.

"If you like, I can take you to the music room and play something now."

She looked at him with shining eyes. "That would be lovely."

Prince Sherlock led the princess to the music room. His violin was resting on top of a pianoforte, and the prince took it up. He played a tune, after which the princess asked, "What is that piece? It is lovely. I am not familiar with it, though."

"Actually, it is an original composition. I composed it for my friend John's wedding last year."

"You are very talented, Sherlock. I play some pianoforte. Perhaps we can play something together sometime."

"Perhaps," replied the prince non-committally. He was not sure he wanted to spend more time with her than he had to. He was finding it difficult to keep his breathing normal. His heart insisted on thumping at an accelerated rate, and he did not understand why. Every time she spoke, or looked at him, he felt a curious fluttering in his stomach. When he had played his violin, his gaze had remained on her, and it kept drifting to her lips. He wondered again how her lips would feel against his. Would they be soft and yielding?

He gave himself a mental shake, telling himself, "This woman is to be betrothed to your brother soon. You entertain these thoughts at your own peril."

Aloud he said, "We have some more rooms to visit. Later, you may wish to rest again before dinner."

The prince showed her the rest of the castle, deliberately omitting the library, which he considered his personal domain. He was unable to avoid it however, because Princess Molly asked, Can you not show me your library? I am sure you must have an extensive one."

There was no getting out of it after that, and Prince Sherlock led the young woman to the library.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Prince Sherlock is confused about his own feelings. I hope you like the way I try to do chapters, alternating viewpoints. Did you enjoy learning about the prince?


	6. The Castle

As Princess Molly followed the prince to the library, she shifted her shoulders slightly and winced. It had not been the best experience, waking up after her exhausted sleep. Her back still ached when she moved it too much. To make things worse, her step-father had disccovered where her room was and awoken her by knocking sharply upon the door.

Prince Culverton had railed at her for having a more impressive bedchamber than his own, and he had made several sneering comments about the "poor" hospitality they were receiving, especially with the king leaving so abruptly. He was also unhappy that king Mycroft had not immediately presented her with an engagement ring, to seal the betrothal. Molly had been expecting another beating, but on this occasion, her step-father refrained, obviously aware that luncheon was not far off. Molly feared that he would elicit his retribution on her later, despite the fact she was innocent of wrongdoing.

The unpleasant man had told the princess to get dressed, and that he would wait for her at the top of the stairs so they could go to luncheon together. She had the feeling he wanted to take no chances on her fleeing the castle.

Luncheon had been a stilted affair. Princess Molly was pleased when Prince Sherlock offered to show her the castle. It was a relief that the queen mother had convinced Prince Culverton to attend to her, rather than accompany the younger couple.

Discovering the the prince played the violin had been delightful. Princess Molly loved music, and had enjoyed his original performance. However, the place she wanted to see most was the library. Although her family's castle had a large library, she was longing to see what treasures this castle's library held. Yet the prince had shown her room after room, and no library.

Finally she had asked if there was one, and he agreed to show her. It was strange though, he seemed rather reluctant about it.

They reached the door of what was presumably the library and the prince halted. "I must apologize in advance, Molly. I tend to do a lot of reading, and the table has many unshelved books upon it." He opened the door.

"Why do you think that would concern me?" she inquired. "It is as well that you put the room to good use. I always have volumes of chemistry books or scientific journals open on the table in our library, unless I need to take them to my laboratory." She walked inside the library, then gasped in amazement. "Is that the most recent Dublin Journal of Medical and Chemical Science?"

She glanced at the prince, who was staring at her with a bemused expression on his face. He didn't seem to have heard her question, but instead asked one of his own. "You are knowledgeable in the sciences? You have a laboratory?"

"Oh, yes," she assured him. "My parents gave me the best tutors in the country, and I gravitated towards the sciences. I love to know how things work. In my laboratory I have done experiments with various chemicals just to see what kind of. reactions they make."

"Where is your laboratory?" asked the prince.

"My parents converted an unused bedchamber for me to use." Her face fell a little as she added. "Unfortunately, my step-father has closed off the room now, and won't allow me to use it anymore. He said it is too dangerous."

"I am thinking you will be well rid of him when you marry my brother." He was looking intently at her.

Princess Molly felt a sharp pain at his words. Unbidden, the thought came to her mind how different things might be if it were the prince she was marrying. He was so handsome, and apparently learned in the same things she herself was interested in. The prince continued to hold her gaze until she dropped hers. Her heart started to pound and her mouth felt dry.

Returning her gaze to the table, she saw once again the journal and picked it up. "This IS the latest journal. How exciting!"

She leafed through a few pages, until the prince said abruptly, " I think it is time you went upstairs. I expect you should like another rest before dinner."

"Must I? It is so lovely in here, and I would love to explore more. I enjoy reading novels as well, and I..."

"No!" Prince Sherlock said in a harsh tone, and she flinched involuntarily.

He ran a hand through his hair then, and said in frustration, "i'm sorry, princess, I think I should take you back to your room now. I just remembered, I have some urgent matters to attend to before dinner."

He had called her princess, not Molly. What had she done to offend him? Perhaps he did not like her company and just wished to be rid of her. "Very well," she said in a low voice, trying to blink quickly and rid herself of the tears that had formed in her eyes at his harsh tone.

She dropped the journal back on the table, and kept her head down as he showed her back to her bedchamber.

Once she entered the room, Molly thought miserably that she would rather stay in her bedchamber for the rest of the day. If the prince found it so hard to be in her company, then it would be best if she did not force herself on him. It was probably best anyway. He evoked feelings in her that she did not want to have, must not have.

Princess Molly pulled the bell rope. To her delight, it was answered by her very own lady's maid Kaitlyn, who had apparently arrived a short while earlier.

"Oh, Kaitlyn!" she exclaimed, "I'm so glad you are here." She hugged her lady's maid who was really more a friend than servant. And then she burst into tears.

"What is it, Molly? What's wrong? Did your step-father hurt you again?" Kaitlyn always used her name rather than title when she was acting in her capacity as friend.

"No, it's not that," wept the distraught princess. "My step-father has not touched me since we have been here."

"Then what could have happened to make you so upset? Was the king beastly to you?"

"No, it's not that. He seems nice enough. It is his younger brother. The king had to leave for a few days on some important matter to the north, and Prince Sherlock showed me the castle this afternoon."

"That sounds like it would have been lovely. I do not understand what has upset you so."

"It is the prince. One moment he seems so friendly, and the next he is cold and distant. It seems he is quite the scholar. In the library I found that he has a love also for all things scientific. I was hoping we could have a conversation about it, but all of a sudden, he insisted I should return to my bedchamber. I don't want to see him again tonight, nor my step-father. Please, Kaitlyn, can you ask for a meal to be sent up to me? Tell them I have a headache and am still weary from travelling."

"Of course I can do that. You are probably feeling overly emotional after your long journey. I will go downstairs now and bring you some food, then get you ready for bed."

"Thank you, Kaitlyn," said Molly, wiping away her tears. Perhaps she was just overwrought from the long journey.

The lady's maid left the bedchamber, and the princess tried to think of the events of that afternoon. At first she thought perhaps the prince might have been a kindred spirit. Undoubtedly she had been mistaken, judging by the way he had suddenly changed and insisted she leave the library.

By the time Kaitlyn returned with her meal on a tray, Princess Molly really did feel as if she was getting a headache. She ate without tasting her food, then allowed Kaitlyn to undress her and unpin her hair from the chignon so it flowed down her back.

'Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Highness?" asked Kaitlyn, returning to her role as lady's maid, rather than friend.

"No, Kaitlyn," sighed the princess. "It has been rather an emotional day. Perhaps I will feel better tomorrow."

"I will see you in the morning then. Sleep well."

Molly gave her friend a wan smile. "I'll try."

Once she was alone, the princess got into the bed. Despite herself, her thoughts kept turning towards the handsome prince. There was something about him that made her want to know him better, to find out his views on the latest scientific advances. Then there was the way he played the violin, as if he was born to do so. Her last thought before she fell into a troubled sleep, was that she longed to run her hands through his curly hair, and to feel his lips on hers.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Oh dear, the princess is falling for the wrong man. How could this happen? LOL

How do you think Sherlock will react to her absence at dinner? Will he be relieved or disappointed?


	7. The Irresistible Force

As soon as Prince Sherlock left Molly at the door to her bedchamber, he went to his own. He sat at the writing desk and put his head in his hands.

He knew he was beginning to fall for the princess. He also knew the exact moment he had realized it. It was when she casually talked about her chemistry books and scientific journals, and her laboratory. It was like she was the female version of himself. Never had he met a woman who had the slightest knowledge or interest in those things he found fascinating.

For the first time the prince realized why he had never been attracted to a woman. It was because they bored him. He would not be able to discuss his work or his interests which were of such importance.

When the princess had talked of her step-father, he had forced himself to say those words about her marrying his brother, to try and halt the rising desire he felt for her, to remind himself he had no right to those thoughts. Unfortunately, it hadn't worked. Finally the prince knew he needed to get out of there and away from her, so he would not make a fool of himself.

Sherlock also felt confused about the princess's own reaction to himself. Perhaps things would become more clear at dinner, he thought.

When the prince went down to dinner and was told the princess had retired early to bed due to fatigue and a headache, he was disappointed. He had to endure instead more of Prince Culverton's boasting and comments that showed him to be a thoroughly unpleasant man. He talked with glee about raising the taxes of the local farmers, stating they were lazy and needed to work harder to earn their land entitlement. It was almost as if the older man were trying to impress the young prince and his mother.

Sherlock however was not at all impressed. He detested the entitlement complex so many of the wealthy possessed. In this regard, Mycroft was a good king. He managed the royal funds well, but did not excessively tax those who served under him. The king was well liked as a result.

Later that night, after the prince retired to bed, he was unable to prevent himself from once again thinking of Princess Molly sleeping in the bedchamber next door. Had she truly been not well or was she trying to avoid him? With these troubling thoughts on his mind, Prince Sherlock finally slept.

In the morning, when the young prince went downstairs to the morning room for breakfast, he was immediately waylaid by a footman.

"A missive has come from the king," said the footman, offering a note on a silver salver. Sherlock took it and read it, his heart plummeting as he read it.

"Sherlock, I wish to arrange a ball in which to publicly announce my betrothal to Princess Amelia. Please ask Mother to see to the arrangements. I should return on Friday, but it should be safe to make it for Saturday, which is four days from now. I know this is rather precipitate, but for the sake of the kingdom, I feel it necessary we make it official as soon as possible. Thank you, brother mine - Mycroft."

The queen mother came into the room shortly thereafter and he showed the note to her.

"What a wonderful idea!" exclaimed the older woman, "but arranging it in four days will be very difficult. I shall write out the invitations today and have them sent out immediately. How was your afternoon yesterday with the princess? I did not want to ask last night in front of Prince Culverton. Personally," she lowered her voice, "I think he is a most odious man."

"The princess is very well read, Mother. I...I think Mycroft is fortunate to have found a bride who is intelligent as well as beautiful."

"In what way is she well-read, my son?"

"She is learned in the scientific field. She even has her own laboratory - well, she did, until her step-father prevented her from using it again."

"It sounds like you and the princess have much in common."

"Indeed we do. She is even familiar with the Dublin Journal of Medical and Chemical Science. She also plays the pianoforte," he enthused, unable to stop himself.

"It seems this young woman has had quite an impact on you," said the elderly woman shrewdly.

Sherlock flushed. "I am merely stating facts. I do not think there would be many women out there who would have the intelligence necessary to keep Mycroft interested."

"Or yourself either," murmured the queen mother.

"Don't, Mother, please," said the prince, running a hand through his hair which he always did when he was agitated.

"Oh Sherlock, has this woman turned your head?"

"I am no fool, Mother. I know she is to marry my brother."

"But the heart wants what it wants," she said softly. "How are you going to deal with this? You cannot avoid her. Mycroft specifically asked you to take care of her while he is gone."

"I will do my duty. Besides, Mother, you need not fear I will try anything untoward. I do not think Molly, I mean Princess Amelia likes me overly much."

"And yet you are already calling her Molly, and she is calling you Sherlock?"

"You know I detest formality."

"Have a care, my son. I would not wish to see your heart broken."

At that moment Prince Culverton entered the breakfast room with his step-daughter once again in tow.

"What's that you said about broken hearts?" he said with a leer that disgusted the young prince. "I'm sure you leave many of the fair maidens of this kingdom with them."

Sherlock looked properly at Molly. She had a pained expression on her face, undoubtedly from the older man's words. She also looked fatigued. Apparently the early night had not served its purpose. However, she still looked beautiful, with her hair dressed in waving tresses. Seeing her hair down made his heart beat faster. The blue gown she wore was obviously one that had been made for her on Mycroft's orders. The prince knew that her trousseau was being tailored as quickly as possible, with dozens of seamstresses hired for the mammoth task.

He bowed to her, "You look..." Beautiful? Exquisite? Perfect? "well," he said, rather lamely.

"I am," she responded, attempting an enthusiastic tone.

"Shall we sit?" invited the young prince cordially, pulling out the chair to his right for the princess once again.

"Thank you," she murmured, and sat.

Once again, it was a rather tense meal. Prince Culverton, with his false joviality, irritated the prince to no end. The queen mother attempted to converse with the pompous man, but the young prince and princess both remained silent. At the end of the meal, Prince Sherlock's mother said magnanimously to the elderly prince, "Princess Amelia toured the castle yesterday. Would you permit me to show it to you today?"

Prince Sherlock had the distinct feeling his mother was deliberately doing it so that he could accompany the princess again without her step-father's presence. It was rather ironic that she was pushing them together, despite her words of warning.

It seemed Prince Culverton may have had the same idea, for he cast a look at his step-daughter, one that seemed to hold a threat as he narrowed his eyes at her. Sherlock did not miss that, nor the fearful expression that appeared on the princess's face. Again he wondered why she seemed so fearful of the man. It would have been the height of rudeness to reject the queen mother's offer for a tour, so the older man adopted a false note of enthusiasm and accepted the invitation.

The older couple were first to leave the breakfast room. Once they had gone, Prince Sherlock glanced over to where the princess still sat, with most of the food still on her plate.

"Is the food not to your liking?" he inquired.

"It is most delicious, Prince Sherlock. I find I am not hungry this morning," she answered, keeping her eyes averted.

She had called him prince. Then he remembered, he had used her formal title the night before, when he had been so desperate to get away from her from his conflicted feelings.

"Molly, look at me," he ordered.

She raised her eyes to his and he was held spellbound by them, by her face. She was utterly entrancing.

"Please forgive me, Molly," he said sincerely. "Yesterday, in the library, I did not mean to push you away. Try to understand, the library has long been my domain. I go there for solitude and nobody else enters when I am in there, not even my brother unless absolutely necessary. I suppose you could say it is my haven."

"I did not mean to intrude," replied the princess softly.

"Of course you didn't intrude. It was merely disconcerting to discover that you feel the same way as I do about the wonders of science. Can we...start again today? Forget my behaviour yesterday. I should like to show you the gardens today. There is also a gazebo, from which you can see how extensive they are. We grow the finest roses in the kingdom right here at the castle."

"Really?" The princess, who had dropped her gaze to her plate after she had last spoken, looked up at him once again. "I should very much like to see it."

"Then let us go, while it is still cool enough to walk outside." He stood and walked over to where the princess sat, offering her his arm. She rose gracefully and took it, and he escorted her out of the breakfast room.

Rather than use the front door, the prince led the princess out through a side door that connected directly to the gardens. He pointed out the various types of roses Bakeristan was known for, some that had been carefully grafted to produce unique hybrids.

"They are so beautiful," breathed Princess Molly.

 ** _Not as beautiful as you_** , thought Prince Sherlock. When Molly turned to him in surprise, he realized with consternation that he had said the words aloud.

"You think I am beautiful?" she asked. He thought he detected a note of hope in her voice.

Attempting to sound nonchalant, the prince merely said, "Of course you are. How does a mere flower compare to the beauty of a woman?"

"Oh." She seemed a little disappointed at his response. "I think there is no better proof of God's creation than to look at a flower, or nature in general."

"Aren't you a woman of science?" the prince scoffed. "How can you believe in God when there is no proof of His existence?"

"How can you say that, Sherlock? Do you not see the beauty around you? How could it not have come from something greater than ourselves?"

"Perhaps you are right," he conceded. Nature was beautiful, but so was this princess, who one moment seemed so submissive, and the next, so passionate. He admired the fact that she had a mind of her own.

He picked the most beautiful rose he could find, one that had been bred to not have the sharp thorns most possessed. "For you," he offered it to the surprised young woman. Unable to stop himself, he added, "It does not compare to your beauty, however."

Molly took it from him and blushed, her skin turning the same shade of pink as the rose . "Thank you, Sherlock. I have never been presented with a rose before."

"Surely that cannot be so," responded the prince incredulously. "Have you not been courted by many men who wished to offer you marriage?" Even as he said the words, he realized he wished he could do so himself. Where had that thought come from? Even if he wished to court her, she was not free for him to do so.

"I have had several offers from fat or balding noblemen, most of them twice my age. The only young men were self-important and foppish, yet ignorant."

"You deserve nothing but the best, Molly," murmured Sherlock, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. This time, when he felt her hand quiver, he noted also her rapid breathing, her dilated pupils, and knew she was as affected by him as he was by her.

As if an irresistible force drew them together, he leaned down and his lips touched hers. A warmth spread through his body at the simple contact. This was nothing like the way Janine's lips had felt when she had tried to force her attentions on him. Molly's lips were soft and yielding, even sweeter than he could have imagined. Without volition, his arms came around her waist to draw her closer, and he deepened the kiss. Despite his own inexperience, instinct guided him as her mouth opened like a flower to his. He could feel her chest rapidly rising and falling against his own, and knew she too was finding it hard to breathe.

When he would have stepped away from her, the princess's hands came around his head, threading through his curls and preventing him from ending the embrace. He almost groaned with the pleasure he felt - this petite woman, so sweet , yet so intelligent he could scarce believe she was real. Several minutes passed as they remained locked in their embrace until finally, he drew back.

Her face was flushed with passion and he knew she was experiencing the same intense desire as he was feeling.

"God, Molly, what are you doing to me?" he uttered huskily in a voice that was deeper than usual due to the heat of passion that consumed him. "Why could I not have met you first?"

To his complete bewilderment, the princess spun around and ran, away from the garden, away from him, back into the castle.

For some time, the prince just stood looking after her, waiting for his breathing to regulate, and his heartbeat to return to normal.

It was then it hit him, as if a lightning bolt had struck him. He loved her, was in love with her, but she had run away from him, so perhaps she was afraid of her feelings. **_You fool,_** he berated himself. **_You have just made everything ten times worse. What the hell are you going to do now?_**

Slowly, thoughtfully, he picked up the rose she had undoubtedly dropped when her hands had reached to touch his hair. He laid it down once again beside the path and also returned to the castle.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I love writing first kisses. I find them so satisfying to read and to write. How did you find it?

So, the prince has fallen hard and fast for the princess, oh dear. Why did Molly run away like that?

Did you notice the snippet of canon from season 3, SOT?

I really want to know why people read my writing - is it the story itself? Is it my unique premise of having all my stories contained in a single universe? Is it because you enjoy romance in general between Sherlock and Molly? Do you like reading period romances/Barbara Cartland style romance? Is it because you like my premise of them not being wildly sexually experienced, unlike the way Sherlock and Molly are portrayed by many other authors? Is it because you prefer to not read explicit love scenes, but still enjoy more sensual ones? Is it because you believe in true love/romance? These are my questions for you, the reader. I'd love your honest opinion!


	8. Love in Hiding

Tears streamed down Princess Molly's face as she fled the garden, intent on returning to the safety of her room.

The moment Prince Sherlock had kissed her, she had been able to deny it no longer. He was the man she had been searching for, the only man she could ever love, and he could never be hers.

As she stumbled blindly into the entrance hall, she heard her step-father's voice. "Anelia, what is of such importance that you should pass by me with nary a word?"

Molly swiped at her tears, trying to compose herself before turning to face him.

"I...I was going upstairs. I thought you were having a tour of the castle with the queen mother."

"She remembered she needed to deal with some urgent correspondence, so she excused herself and said she would show me the castle after luncheon." Apparently noting her agitation and tear-stained cheeks, he asked harshly, "Where have you been? Were you with the prince?"

Too distraught to think of an excuse, she replied truthfully. "Yes. He was showing me the gardens."

There was a note of suspicion in the man's voice as he inquired, "Have you been foolish enough to fancy yourself in love with the young prince? I have seen the way you look at him." He did not wait for her answer, but continued, "Make no mistake, Amelia, if you do anything to try and escape from marrying the king, I shall beat you until you beg for mercy and agree to whatever I say. Then I shall do the same to your mother."

 ** _Her mother, she had to protect her mother._** She shrank from him and said fearfully, "Yes Step-Papa. I am not attempting anything of the sort. I...I must go now. I have a headache."

Without waiting for a response, she hurried upstairs to her bedchamber. The princess was terrified that he might come to her anyway and punish her. She wondered what she might do to hide, and suddenly a thought occurred to her.

Molly went to the dressing table and picked up the key for the communicating door. She inserted it into the keyhole and unlocked it. After passing through the door, Molly locked the door behind her. She glanced around the prince's bedchamber wondering if she should hide. Then she decided her step-father would not be foolish enough to enter the young prince's room. She stood silently by the communicating door, waiting.

It was not long before the princess discovered she had been right to fear retribution from Prince Culverton. She heard the door to her chamber opening and his voice calling, "Amelia, are you here?"

She could hear the man moving about. "Amelia, you can't hide from me." He got closer to the communicating door and she held her breath as the handle turned. Her heart was beating wildly in terror.

Apparently satisfied that the door was locked and that she would not have passed through it, she heard him move away from it. Then she heard another voice, Prince Sherlock's.

"Prince Culverton, what are you doing here? Why are you in the princess's bedchamber?"

"I was searching for the princess, to ask after her health. I saw her some minutes past, and she complained of a headache."

"You ought not be in her bedchamber Prince Culverton."

"And why should you care, young prince? Can it be you are beginning to regard my step-daughter with some affection? I would wish you to remember she is betrothed to your brother."

"I am well aware of the circumstances under which the princess came to the castle. You need not remind me," replied the prince curtly. "I have no idea why you are here, but if you do not leave her bedchamber, I will have you thrown out."

"Insolent young pup. You had better mind the fact that soon I will be father to the new queen."

"Step-father, I think," remarked Prince Sherlock. "Leave, now."

"I shall go, but never fear. I shall be watching to see that nothing untoward happens between you and Amelia."

"I sincerely hope you are not threatening me, Prince Culverton." Molly could clearly hear the threatening note in the young prince's voice.

"Merely informing you that my eye is upon you. If you should see Princess Amelia, please tell her I require her presence. I will be in the drawing room."

Princess Molly heard the footsteps of both men exiting her bedchamber, and the door closing behind them. It was only a few moments later when she heard the sound of Prince Sherlock's door opening, and she made a dive to hide behind the bed.

After she heard the door close, she waited for a few moments, then slowly rose from her crouching position behind the bed.

She heard the prince's gasp of astonishment, even as he cane around the bed and helped her up. "What are you doing in here?"

"I had to...I had to get away - from him." she whispered.

"Why do you fear your step-father so?" inquired the prince.

"I can't...I can't tell you why."

"Whatever it is, I will protect you."

"If you want to protect me, is that because you love me, Sherlock? Can you say those words?

She saw the consternation on his face as he answered, "I cant, Molly. I can't say those words to you."

"Why can't you?" she asked, her face draining of colour. He obviously desired her, but nothing more. His next words surprised her.

"Because it's true, Molly, God help me, it's true."

She saw him take a shuddering breath and her heart lightened. "If it's true, just say it anyway."

Then he turned the tables on her, taking her hands and looking into her eyes with his blue-green gaze. "You say it. Go on, you say it first."

"What?" Was he so uncertain of her feelings for him that he needed validation?

"Say it. Say it like you mean it," he told her again, insistently.

She swallowed, knowing there was no turning back once the words were said. She told him shyly, not quite meeting his eyes. "I...I love you." Then once again, raising her eyes to his. "I love you."

She could see the prince process her words, but he said nothing.

Fear flicked through her. Was he also afraid of what saying the words aloud would mean? She couldn't unsay her own now, she needed him to acknowledge it. "Sherlock - please," she pleaded.

At last, she saw he understood, as he cupped her face in his hands and said the words. "I love you." Then his lips touched hers once again, and she felt even more intensely the fire he ignited within her. Her lips parted as he intensified the kiss. It felt so right, as if their lips had been made just for this purpose.

The prince's hands slid away from her face to grasp her shoulders, and involuntarily, she emitted a whimper of pain, as he touched a sensitive area where a blow from her step-father had fallen upon her.

Immediately he stopped kissing her and asked, "Molly, what's wrong?" even as his hands grasped her shoulders more firmly in concern, which elicited another gasp of pain. The prince finally dropped his hands and looked at her in consternation.

"Why are you making those sounds of pain?"

"I...I can't tell you, Sherlock."

"You must tell me, Molly. I insist," he said commandingly.

"My...my step-father. Sometimes he cannot control his rage," she whispered miserably, as tears formed in her eyes.

She could hear the anger in the prince's voice, although he tried to control it with slow, deliberate words. "What has he done to you that makes you so afraid of him?"

Instead of answering him at once, she turned her back to him and then said, "Unlace my gown."

"What?" His voice was hesitant.

"If you wish to see why I agreed to come here as a bride for your brother, unlace my gown. I have a corset beneath, so you need not fear what you shall see. I an still modestly attired."

The prince hesitated again for a moment, and Princess Molly heard him exhale, as if he had been holding his breath. "Very well."

With obviously unpracticed fingers, he sought the knots that kept the bodice tightly laced. It took several minutes for him to figure out how to unknot, then pull at the laces to slowly loosen them. "My God, Molly. How do you women wear these things?" he complained as he worked at his task. Finally the strings were loosened enough so that the princess could remove her arms from the sleeves and draw the bodice downwards so it sat at her waist.

She heard Prince Sherlock's sharp intake of breath as he saw the criss-crossed lines that marred her back, as well as the thin scabs of those that had not yet fully healed. "That bastard," he said. "I'm going to kill him!" She heard the unmistakable rage in the prince's voice.

"Don't say such things," Molly pleaded. "You cannot tarnish the reputation of your family. Leave well enough alone. I shall attempt to stay out of his way."

"I won't let him spend one moment alone with you from now on," the prince assured her. "You may be certain of it."

Then he turned her back to face him. "I can let the matter rest for now. But what are we going to do about - us?" he asked her.

"What can we do? It may not yet be official, but I am promised to your brother. The arrangements have been made. I have already been duly bought and paid for."

"Run away with me?" he suggested impulsively. "I love you Molly. I want to be with you, to marry you. Let us leave the castle and escape."

"You cannot dishonour your brother that way, Sherlock. Could you really cause him such shame? The scandal it would cause, Bakeristan would never recover from it." Besides, my step-father would seek retribution. At the very least he would go back to Bartonia and expend his wrath upon my mother. I cannot do that to her."

The prince ran his hands through his curly hair in desperation. Finally, he said, "I will speak to Mycroft upon his return, explain the situation. Perhaps together we can find a solution."

"Won't he...be cross with you?"

"I don't know," admitted the prince. "It isn't as if this situation has ever come up before. How could I have known that the one woman forbidden to me is the only one I could ever love?" Without waiting for a response, he put his arms around her, making sure his hands stayed below the line of scars, on her corset instead. His lips sought hers, this time with a hunger and a desperation they both felt due to this impossible situation for which there seemed no solution. His kiss drew a response from her, and her chest rose and fell rapidly at the intensity of feelings the prince evoked in her.

Finally, he lifted his head and said, "It must be close to luncheon time by now. We must not let anyone know of our feelings, especially your step-father. When Mycroft returns home in three days' time, I will confess the truth and throw myself upon his mercy."

"And if he refuses to listen?"

"I do not know." She heard the frustration in his voice. "Let me lace you back up for now, or at least attempt it. You may have to bring your lady's maid into our confidence. Can you trust her?"

"Oh yes, Sherlock. Kaitlyn is my friend, as well as my lady's maid. She detests my step-father, for she has seen the wounds he has inflicted upon me."

"Then we have at least one ally. That is good. In fact, if you trust her, call upon her now. You need to change before luncheon anyway."

Princess Molly moved towards the communicating door, from which the key still protruded.

"Wait. I shall go first to make sure that beast is not somehow hiding nearby. From now on you must lock your door at night. We will use the communicating door if we wish to speak privately." He unlocked the door, then preceded Molly into the bedchamber. Satisfied that it was empty, he nodded towards the princess. She stepped inside the room and pulled the bell rope to summon Kaitlyn.

Then side-by-side, they sat on the bed and waited for the lady's maid to arrive. Sherlock took Molly's hand in his and looked deeply into her eyes. "Remember, nobody except your lady's maid can know we are in love. We must hide our feelings when we are around your step-father or my mother. We shall pretend I am just doing my duty as a good brother." He lifted her hand to his lips. "We will find a solution, my darling, We must."

She wanted to believe it was so, but it would not be easy.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So the prince and princess have acknowledged their mutual love. What did you think of the reverse I love you conversation? I had that planned in my mind weeks before I wrote it. I thought it would be interesting to try something different, I'm not sure if any other author has done that before. At least, I have not read it.

Did you like the way Molly showed Sherlock her back?


	9. Three Days to Love

As Prince Sherlock sat next to the woman he loved, awaiting the arrival of her lady's maid, he held her hand in his.

She gave him a beautiful smile that made him want to kiss her again, but he restrained himself. They needed to make sure Kaitlyn would keep their secret.

He thought about the events of the day, marvelling at how much things had changed in just a few short hours. The last thing he had expected was to fall in love, and so quickly too. He had long considered himself married to his work, and had been content to remain that way.

Now, however, things were different. The princess had turned his ordered existence upside down. If his affections had been one-sided, he would have stood by and watched Mycroft marry the princess, and kept his feelings to himself. Knowing she too loved him though meant that he had to try and reason with his brother.

Sherlock knew his brother cared for him, but asking the man to relinquish the princess to him was no small thing. There could be a scandal, and Mycroft detested having his plans disrupted.

Well, at least he had three days to think about how to broach the subject with the king, and to spend those three days cherishing the princess, his Molly. As he thought of this, he said to her, "My brother will be back three days from now. At all costs we must not let anyone know about our feelings until I can speak with him myself."

Kaitlyn entered the room within a few minutes of the bell rope being pulled. As soon as she did so, the princess began to speak.

"Kaitlyn, I need you to listen to me as a friend and not as a lady's maid. You see, Prince Sherlock and I, Well.." she blushed, and looked at him.

"We're in love," finished the prince, smiling at the woman he adored. Then he looked over at Kaitlyn. "We need you to keep our secret, especially from Molly's step-father. When my brother returns in three days, I intend to speak with him."

"I just knew there was something between you," said the lady's maid. "I had never seen the princess distraught over a man before last night."

Prince Sherlock gazed at the princess. "You were distraught...over me?"

"Yes. You were so kind to me, and then you changed, telling me to return to my bedchamber. I didn't understand why you were so nice one moment, yet distant the next."

The prince squeezed her hand. "I was afraid, Molly. I did not understand these feelings I was having for a woman I had just met. I've never met anyone like you." He looked intently into her eyes, then at her lips, wanting to kiss them again. In fact he would have done so, were it not for the fact that Kaitlyn spoke.

"I will do everything I can to keep your secret. Prince Culverton is an evil man, and it will give me great pleasure in keeping him from the truth."

"Thank you, Kaitlyn. If my step-father seeks you out to ask questions, it is imperative he not know a thing."

"Of course."

"I will leave you both now so you can get your mistress changed for luncheon. Her gown is unlaced because she showed me what that beast of a man has done to her," the prince explained. Then he lifted Molly's hand to his lips. "I will see you downstairs, my sweet."

Prince Sherlock returned to his room via the communicating door and pulled his own bell rope to summon his valet, Wiggins.

When the young man arrived, Prince Sherlock decided to take him into his confidence. His young valet was devoted to him, and showed a curiosity for the sciences as well.

"Wiggins, I must reveal something to you. Can you keep an important secret?"

"Of course, Your Highness," exclaimed the young man sincerely.

"As you know, my brother instructed me to take care of the princess during his absence. Well, the princess and I discovered many commonalities. In fact, we are in love."

"Oh, Your Highness, I always knew you just needed to find the right woman. Your standards are exceptionally high. But what can you do, if she is supposed to marry your brother?"

Sherlock heaved a sigh. "That's the problem, Wiggins. I must speak with the king upon his return. In the meantime however, it is essential that Prince Culverton have absolutely no knowledge of how things stand between the princess and myself. If he knew, he would seek revenge, and Princess Amelia would be his target."

"You can trust me, Your Highness. My lips are sealed."

"Thank you Wiggins. I am counting on you. You may leave for now."

"Very good, Your Highness."

The valet left and the prince headed to the dining hall.

Prince Culverton was already there, and looked at the young prince suspiciously. "Have you seen my step-daughter?" he inquired. "She seems to have disappeared."

"I have not seen her since I showed her the gardens," lied Prince Sherlock smoothly.

"I suppose the chit decided to hide from me."

"And why should she do so, Prince Culverton?" inquired Sherlock, wishing he could strike the man for his ill treatment of his step-daughter.

"You seem uncommonly interested in her welfare, young prince. If you are conspiring with her..."

"I will thank you not to insult me," thundered Prince Sherlock, in an effort to conceal his fear that the older man might somehow discover his suspicions were correct. "I assure you, my brother would not appreciate your attitude towards me."

Beaten for once, the older man backed down. "I apologize. I merely want things to run smoothly."

At that moment, the queen mother arrived, with the princess directly behind her. Prince Sherlock could not help the glint of appreciation in his eyes as he looked at the woman he loved, dressed in a floral printed muslin gown. Her figure was truly exquisite, he thought. He was not sure, but he thought his mother might have seen the look in his eyes as he rested them on the princess, because the elderly woman's eyes were upon him. He hoped she had not noticed the way he looked at Molly.

He merely said conventionally however, "Mother, Princess Amelia, now that you are here, I will ring the bell so luncheon can be served. He pulled out a chair for his mother, then one for the princess, before seating himself.

Prince Sherlock tried to converse amiably throughout luncheon, asking questions about Bartonia and what life was like there. Casually he asked too what the older man had planned for the afternoon.

"Oh, I have to finish showing the castle to Prince Culverton," put in the queen mother. "I had to cut it short earlier, because I had some urgent correspondence to attend to."

"Where did you disappear to after I saw you this morning?" The visiting prince asked his step-daughter. "You said you had a headache. I went to your bedchamber and you were not there."

"I..." she hesitated.

Sensing that Molly was having trouble thinking of a plausible explanation for her absence, the young prince said, "I heard the sound of the pianoforte coming from the music room just before I came here."

She looked at him gratefully. "Yes, I went there to play for awhile. Sometimes playing soothes my headache."

"Ah yes," Prince Sherlock agreed. "I am glad you found something to do when you left the gardens. Are you well now?"

"Quite well, thank you," she responded in a prim tone. Prince Sherlock knew she was trying to allay any suspicions the older man might have about Sherlock and herself.

"Perhaps I can finish showing you the gardens," suggested the prince. Noticing the older prince's sharp glance, he added hastily, "You could bring your lady's maid along too."

The words had the desired effect, as Prince Culverton relaxed, obviously satisfied nothing untoward would be going on in the presence of, as it were, a chaperone.

"Oh, yes, I shall ring for Kaitlyn immediately after luncheon," said Princess Molly.

At the end of the meal, the princess left to summon her lady's maid, while the queen mother ushered Prince Culverton out of the dining hall to give him the tour.

Prince Sherlock lingered by the entrance to the garden, awaiting the two young women, who appeared ten minutes later. He led them outside. Once they were far enough from the door to the castle, Kaitlyn said with a smile, "I'm sure the two of you would like to be alone. Why don't I just sit on this garden bench? If anyone comes from the castle, I can take the path to find you. I have a book to read."

The young woman held up a novel and seated herself on the bench she had indicated.

"Thanks, Kaitlyn,"' said the princess. She followed Prince Sherlock until they were out of sight of Kaitlyn and the castle door. It was then that he took her hand and led her to the gazebo he had talked about.

The prince watched as Princess Molly looked with delight at the extensive gardens. Flowers of many kinds were in full bloom, and it was truly a magnificent sight. Molly went from one side of the gazebo to the other, exclaiming over the beauty she saw. The prince could not stop smiling at her enthusiasm, and he thought she looked far more beautiful than anything or anyone he had ever seen.

Suddenly she pointed to a small building off to the side and asked, "What is that building?"

Sherlock walked to stand beside her. "It is the family chapel. Years ago, all the royal weddings were conducted there, until the weddings became big spectacles for all to see."

"I should much prefer a private wedding ceremony, than one which is viewed by large crowds."

"That would not be possible if you were to marry the king."

Her face clouded. "I'm so afraid, Sherlock. Perhaps I could have tolerated being married to him if my affections did not lay elsewhere. But how can I contemplate that now?" She looked at him, and her eyes were shimmering with tears.

He placed a hand gently at the side of her face. "Let us not talk of this for now," he pleaded. "We can do nothing until my brother returns. For these three days I just want to spend time with you, getting to know you and doing this."

He bent his head as he spoke and placed his lips against hers. Immediately he felt that same rush of heat spread through him. He moved his other hand to clasp the back of her head, deepening the kiss even as he felt her response. Molly let out a little sigh of pleasure against his lips and her arms slid around Sherlock's waist. It was several minutes before they parted, flushed and struggling to catch their breath.

"Sherlock, you have heard from your brother? You say we have three days - does this mean he will return on Friday?"

"Yes darling. I will speak to him on his return." Briefly, he considered telling her about the King's plan to hold a ball the following day, but decided it would just upset her, and he did not want to think about that right now.

The prince drew Molly to a bench along one of the gazebo's octagonal sides. "How could you have made me fall in love with you so quickly?" he asked her, genuinely wondering how it could have happened.

"I don't understand it myself," she admitted. "I thought perhaps there was something wrong with me, that I could not muster any affection for any of my suitors. But the moment I met you, I felt...a connection. It was if something beyond myself was pulling me towards you."

"I felt the same, even before I knew you shared the same interests as I." He raised her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it, then turning it over and kissing her palm. He felt her tremble, even at so simple a touch.

They sat for some time, hands clasped. Prince Sherlock knew that whatever happened with Mycroft, he would fight for his Molly. He would somehow make the king see reason, because he had to. Finally, the prince spoke. "Tonight, after dinner, I will be going to the library. If you can get away, you can meet me there."

"I'll do my best," Princess Molly promised. "It will depend on whether my step-father has plans for me."

"You are not to be alone with him," the prince said fiercely. "I don't want him to try and hurt you again."

"As long as he thinks I am reconciled to marrying King Mycroft, I don't believe he will risk hurting me."

"Nevertheless, promise me you will try and make your excuses if he requests a private audience with you."

"I shall try, Sherlock."

"'Come, we should get back to your lady's maid now." Prince Sherlock assisted the princess to stand and kissed her gently once more, before they returned to Kaitlyn, who was still absorbed in her novel. He left the women and returned to the castle.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I hope you are enjoying the story so far. Will they be able to keep their relationship a secret?

Do you like the idea of Wiggins being Sherlock's valet? I thought it would be a good fit!


	10. Secret Love

Princess Molly returned to the castle with Kaitlyn a few minutes after the man she loved disappeared inside.

"Did you enjoy your time together?" inquired her friend.

The princess sighed. "Very much. He's so wonderful. He's everything any woman could want. It's hard to believe he loves me also."

The lady's maid looked at her in astonishment. "Why is that hard to believe? You are well-read, beautiful and kind."

"Oh, Kaitlyn, it's kind of you to say, but I am not beautiful. There are many women far more attractive than I."

"Speaking as your friend, you may not be a renowned beauty who sets all men's hearts aflame, but you have an inner beauty that shines through you. I am sure it is that which Prince Sherlock can see."

"If that is so, I am glad of it."

They reached the princess's bedchamber and went inside, then continued their conversation.

"I am just so afraid for the future. If King Mycroft insists upon marrying me, even after Sherlock speaks to him, I don't know what I will do."

"I have a solution," said her friend, with a devilish gleam in her eye.

"Tell me," pleaded Princess Molly. "I will entertain any possible solutions."

"You should make love to the prince."

Molly opened her mouth in astonishment. "Kaitlyn, you cannot possibly be saying what I perceive you to be saying."

"I am saying it, Molly. If you and the prince made love, King Mycroft could not possibly wish to marry you," her friend said pragmatically.

"Kaitlyn, I could not do that. We are not wed!"

The lady's maid shrugged. "Is that not the point? You love him, he loves you - do you not wish to wed him instead of the king?"

"Of course, I would like nothing better. But Prince Sherlock would never do anything that would reflect poorly upon his brother. Besides, what if - what if I was with child by him, and we were still unwed?"

Kaitlyn rolled her eyes. "You are such an innocent, Molly. What do you think happened to that housemaid last year - the one who left with no explanation?"

"you mean Edith?"

"Yes. Word below stairs is that she was with child by a man of business named Michael, who was in an unhappy marriage. These things happen."

The princess gasped. "I had no idea!"

"Of course you didn't. Your whole life you have lived for your books and experiments. You've been oblivious to the men of Bartonia who would seek you out at balls. You rebuffed the advances of every nobleman in the kingdom. Why do you think I am happy to keep your relationship from your step-father?"

"Because he is an evil, horrid man?"

"Well that too, but mainly it is because I see for myself you have finally fallen in love. You must have a care though. When you look at the prince, I can see quite clearly that your affections are engaged. You do not wish Prince Culverton to find out, so you must take precautions and keep your eyes averted from the prince as much as possible."

"Thank you, Kaitlyn. I shall...endeavour to think upon what you have said."

"Good." Slipping back into her lady's maid role, the young woman asked, "Would you like a rest before dinner, Your Highness? I can return at five o'clock to arrange your hair and dress you for dinner."

"Yes. Thank you Kaitlyn."

Kaitlyn assisted her mistress out of her gown and helped her into a nightgown before departing.

Princess Molly remembered to lock the door, then climbed into the four poster canopy bed. She found it difficult to sleep. Kaitlyn's words kept coming back to her. **_You should make love to the prince._** What would Sherlock's reaction be if she went into his bedchamber dressed only in her nightgown? Would he be tempted to bed her? The thought both excited and frightened her. She thought that making love with him would be a wonderful experience. To contemplate it with anyone else now made her shudder with revulsion. Of course, she wasn't exactly sure what the actual act of making love entailed. Her mother had never explained it, but she knew her parents were very happy, so it was undoubtedly something very wonderful. But if she were with a man she did not love it would surely be an unpleasant experience. With these troubling thoughts still running through her mind, the princess slept.

She woke to the sound of a knock on her door. "Your Highness, it is time to get up."

The princess got out of bed and unlocked the door. "I'm sorry, Kaitlyn," she said, once the lady's maid had entered," the prince said I should always keep the door locked."

"That is a wise idea," approved the younger woman. "More of your trousseau has arrived today. Some servants are bringing them up now. There are two more evening gowns among them."

The new gowns were hung into the large wardrobe. Looking at the new gowns, the princess was astonished at the fine material, although she realized she should not be. After all, these exquisite creations were designed with a queen in mind. Her heart lurched at the thought. Being a queen was a huge responsibility in and of itself. She was not particularly intimidated by that idea, it was the thought of having to marry a man who did not love her, and of whom she also held no fond regard.

Princess Molly selected an evening gown of gold and cream brocade. Instead of sleeves, there were three strands of beads, through which Molly put her arms. Bearing in mind that the strapless design would reveal her back and evidence of the torments she had received at the hand of her step-father, Kaitlyn gave her a cream shawl to wear around her shoulders and left Molly's hair down. Her long hair would also serve to disguise the evidence of Prince Culverton's beatings.

Once she was ready, Princess Molly headed downstairs for the dining hall. She caught her breath at the sight of Prince Sherlock, who was the only one there. He looked exceptionally handsome in a black waistcoat and trousers, over a white shirt. His long coat with gold trim along the edge and the cuffs of his sleeves was exceedingly elegant, she thought. Her heart began to pound at the sight, especially when he gave her an admiring glance. He seemed about to speak, but Prince Culverton and the queen arrived at that moment.

Molly immediately averted her eyes from the young prince, remembering Kaitlyn's warning. When Prince Sherlock held her chair out for her after doing the same for his mother, she felt his fingers lightly brush her arm, as if he could not help himself, and it sent tingles through her body. She merely thanked him however, without looking at him.

As the meal progressed, Prince Sherlock asked, "Mother, have you sent off the invitations for the ball this Saturday?"

"Oh yes, dear. I managed to do that before luncheon. It is why I could not give Prince Culverton a tour of the castle this morning after all."

"There is to be a ball, this Saturday?" Molly inquired. **_Why had she not heard of this?_**

8"Your betrothal ball, dear," responded the queen mother. "My son sent a missive this morning, requesting arrangements to be made for a ball on Saturday, so that your betrothal can be formally announced."

"Oh," she said faintly, feeling the blood draining from her face. **_Why had Sherlock not informed her of this? An official betrothal ball?_**

"Yes, Isn't it exciting?" said Prince Culverton enthusiastically. "Soon our two kingdoms will become even firmer allies. I am sure the king will not wish to have a long betrothal period. After all, he must produce some heirs."

Molly gulped, feeling even fainter at the prospect of bearing a child who was not Sherlock's.

"Princess Amelia, are you alright, dear?"asked Sherlock's mother. "You are looking quite pale."

The princess noted that her step-father's eyes were upon her, looking with mistrust, while Sherlock was giving her a concerned look.

"Yes, yes," she said hastily. "I was just caught off-guard. I...I am looking forward to having our betrothal formally announced." She saw with relief that Prince Culverton's expression cleared as he gave her a genial smile. The young prince's expression, however, darkened, and she knew he was hurting too, at the idea of her marrying his brother.

"Do you have any plans for this evening?" the queen mother inquired politely of the visiting prince.

"I think I might venture into Holmes Village and take in a cup of ale or two. I have heard that the village has a fine inn."

"indeed," spoke up Prince Sherlock. "The Fox and Hound is the finest establishment in the whole kingdom, in my opinion. They have nightly entertainment with musicians and dancing as well."

"Ah, I shall look forward to it, then," replied the older man with a smile.

Molly was sure he was only going so he could brag about the fact that his step-daughter was soon to be the king's betrothed. He would not wait for the official announcement. However, it was welcome news that the man would be departing from the castle. That meant she and Sherlock could spend some uninterrupted time together. Her heart leapt at the thought.

Fortunately Prrince Culverton did not ask what she planned to do that evening. If he had done so, she had thought to say she needed to do some correspondence, but as he didn't ask, she could use that as an excuse another time.

Sherlock's mother spoke about the various noblemen who were to be invited to the ball on Saturday. She was confident that, despite the short notice, everyone would be there, especially knowing it was to be a betrothal ball. Everyone would want to meet the visiting princess who would become their queen.

The more the queen mother talked, the more Molly's heart sank. Even if the king was sympathetic to his brother's cause, how could a royal scandal be prevented when, as the queen mother said, it was a "betrothal ball for my son" that she had stated on each ball invitation?

As soon as the dinner was finished, Prince Culverton made his excuses and left, obviously in a hurry to get to the village and brag about his future status as father-in-law to the king. The queen mother seemed in no hurry to leave, so Princess Molly was the next to depart.

She went upstairs to her bedchamber and waited fifteen minutes, to make sure her step-father would have left the castle. Then she took off the shawl she had been wearing, knowing she no longer needed to keep her back covered, as she would not see Prince Sherlock's mother that evening, and her hair was sufficiently covering the bare back of the gown anyway.

Slowly, glancing around frequently to make sure she was not seen, the princess made her way to the library, opened the door and stepped inside.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Sherlock and Molly's clothes here are the ones depicted in the cover image for this story.

What did you think of Kaitlyn's suggestion?

Did you pick up the Downton Abbey reference? If so, show off your knowledge and leave feedback!


	11. Desire of the Heart

Prince Sherlock huffed out a sigh as he entered the library. He had spent the afternoon there, after his time with Molly, trying to read the latest science periodical, but he couldn't concentrate. His thoughts kept drifting to Molly and to Mycroft, and to how he was to approach Mycroft on his return.

Sherlock knew that his brother cared deeply for him, and he suspected the king might even be sympathetic to his plight, but he also knew the king had a strict code of honour. If he was pledged to marry, then he would feel obligated to follow through with it.

The fact the the ball was coming up so soon was also a concern. Even if he managed to convince the king that he and Molly were in love, the betrothal ball had already been set in motion. His mother had been writing out the invitations. To cancel it would be catastrophic and scandalous in the extreme.

Then there was Prince Culverton. The man was cruel and would seek revenge if his step-daughter did not marry the king.

At dinner, the young prince had been brought low over the fact that his mother had already sent out the invitations, calling it a betrothal ball. That meant it would be even more difficult for the king to not announce his betrothal, if indeed he even had a notion to do so. Prince Sherlock's gloom about that had only been tempered by the news that Culverton would be leaving the castle for the evening. At least that meant Molly would come to him in the library, well, he hoped she would.

The young prince stood looking at the book-strewn table in the library for several minutes, not feeling any motivation to sit and read. At the sound of the door opening, his heart leapt.

He looked over at the door and caught his breath. His Molly stood there shyly, looking beautiful, having discarded the shawl she had worn to dinner. He had guessed the shawl was a late addition to cover the evidence of her step-father's cruelty.

He walked to the door, then turned the key, before breathing, "Molly, you came."

"Of course I came," she responded.

Taking her hand, the prince drew her further into the room. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed the back of it, then kissed her palm. He pressed another kiss to her wrist, feeling the little pulse that throbbed there.

"Molly," he murmured, "my Molly."

And she burst into tears.

The prince's arms came around he and she rested her face against his shoulder, weeping.

'Hush, love," he told her. "I'm here, and I love you."

Her arms slipped around his waist and she held him tightly. "Why did you not tell me there is to be a ball on Saturday?"

Sherlock swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "I didn't wish to upset you. I'm sorry. I just...I just want to spend some time with you, to love you before my brother's return."

"What...what are we to do?" she asked brokenly. "Your mother said it is to be a betrothal ball. Even if the king was sympathetic, the die has been cast. It would cause a terrible scandal if no betrothal was announced."

The prince felt tears coming to his own eyes. He so desperately wanted to comfort the woman he loved, to assure her that all would be well, but he too had been thinking those thoughts. He knew it was entirely possible that the betrothal would be announced. If that happened he had no idea what they would do next. If he escaped with her, they would be forced to live penniless, probably unwed. They would lose their rank and title, not that he cared about that. It was the fear that he would not be able to take care of her properly if they had no income.

Princess Molly lifted her tear-stained face to his, and the prince couldn't hold himself back anymore. His hand reached to cup her face and his lips came down on hers. This was not a gentle, tender kiss, it was a kiss of passion, of hunger and desperation. He poured his heart and soul into it, and she responded, opening her mouth and inviting him to plunder it with his tongue, before he returned to kissing her lips, moving to kiss the side of her mouth, her jaw and down her neck till he reached her frantically beating pulse.

Desire washed over him in waves. It was strangely exhilarating, this knowledge that he was, after all, a man. He had wondered at times if there was something wrong with him, because he didn't feel the desire that other men felt. He had seen Mycroft on many occasions whisk away one maiden or another, in order to relinquish her of her virtue - only willing participants of course. Now, finally, the prince understood that urge he had so condescendingly dismissed in the past, the urge to be with a woman, to make love to her, to show her how much he wanted her, needed her. Molly was the true desire of his heart, the one woman he had been born to love.

His hands moved to caress her shoulders, her creamy skin, even as his mouth laid a fiery trail of kisses along her shoulders and Molly gasped, pressing herself into him without thought, inviting his touch. It was only when his hands moved to grasp her shoulders more firmly, that he felt , rather than heard her whimper of pain and he remembered the marks on her back that her brute of a step-father had inflicted upon her.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry Molly. I didn't mean to...I would never want to do anything to compromise you. I want to do things the right way. I want to be able to marry you, to take care of you," he said, hearing the raw note of passion in his own voice.

"I want that too, Sherlock, more than anything."

"Come," he said, leading her to a chair beside the book-strewn table. "I need to think."

The princess sat quietly as he paced the room, trying to think of something, anything that they could do.

He thought he heard the princess murmur something, and he stopped pacing to look at her. "What did you say, darling?" he asked.

Princess Molly turned her head away from him and said in a small voice, "My lady's maid...made a suggestion."

"What kind of suggestion?"

She looked at him then. "She said...if we made love...that your brother would refuse to marry me."

Sherlock groaned and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He walked over to the seat next to Molly and sat, taking her hand in his. "Would you be willing to sacrifice your reputation, and possibly endure a scandal if we made love?"

She blushed. . "I...might. I love you so much, Sherlock. If...if it meant your brother would be convinced to not go through with our betrothal..."

"Oh, my darling, I appreciate that you would consider relinquishing your virtue to me, and believe me, I long for you, to love you in the way you deserve to be loved. But like I said to you already, I do not wish to compromise you. If this God of yours is real, surely He will see to it that a solution is found, do you not think?"

"Yes, Sherlock, I shall pray for us. I do believe that with God's help, things will turn out for the best."

Prince Sherlock smiled at her. He admired her for her faith, even if he still had reservations about it. Perhaps her God would show them the way. If that happened, he would certainly have to start attending church.

"Sherlock, is the chapel open to visitors?"

"Not normally, there are many valuable objects in there. I do know where a key is kept hidden though, and of course, the housekeeper and vicar have them as well. There is a service there each Sunday for anyone in the castle who wishes to attend."

"Do you think...would you show it to me tomorrow, perhaps? I should very much like to spend some time in prayer. I feel closer to God when I am in a place of worship."

"Of course I can do that, if that is what you wish," agreed the prince.

"Could we now discuss some things about our common interests? I should like to know your opinion on some of the recent articles in the Dublin Journal of Medical and Chemical Science. Of course, I have not seen the latest one, except for the glimpse I had yesterday. But it would be nice to converse with someone who is knowledgeable on the subject."

"I have never found anyone else who would be interested in it. My brother is too busy, and most people cannot comprehend the topics that lie within. It would give me great pleasure to discourse with you on the subject."

The young couple spoke at length about those scientific matters which interested them both. The more they talked, the more Sherlock realized how truly intelligent Molly was, and how unique she was. It was simply astounding to find a woman who could comprehend such intellectual matters, and he found himself falling more in love with her, the more they spoke.

The prince eventually looked at his timepiece, to discover it was far later than he thought. "Molly, the hour draws late. It is time for us to say goodnight. I will unlock the door and make sure nobody is about, so you can return to your bedchamber."

He stood and walked to the door, unlocked it and peered out into the empty hallway. "It is quiet," he said, turning to speak to Molly. He was surprised to see she had moved to be close to him.

"Sherlock," Princess Molly asked softly, "would you kiss me once more before I leave?"

The prince closed the door. He knew it was probably not a good idea, but was unable to refuse her. Cradling her face in his hands, he bent and touched his lips to hers again. Even as he did so, Molly's hands crept around his neck, drawing him closer to her, pressing her body into his in unconscious invitation.

They kissed for several minutes, as he savoured the taste and feel of her, wishing he could do more than kiss her, longing to touch her, to feel her sweet curves. Finally, with a groan, he set her away from him, opening the door once more and checking to make sure the corridor was empty.

"Go now," he said huskily, "before we do something we must not do." His breathing was ragged, and he could hear her breath coming quickly from between her lips.

"Goodnight, Sherlock," she whispered, taking her leave.

He looked after her, then waited another ten minutes before leaving the library himself to return to his own bedchamber.

After his valet had attended him, and the prince was in his bed, his thoughts drifted to the young woman who was sleeping so close to him, wishing he could go to her, knowing that he must not.

Without making a conscious decision to do it, he began to pray. **_God, if you can hear me, help us. Help us find a way to be together._**

With the same fervent prayer repeating itself over and over, he finally slept.

* * *

 **Author's a Note:** That darn betrothal ball seems to be the main obstacle, aside from Molly's step-father.

Hope you enjoyed hearing Sherlock's thoughts about himself and how Molly had changed him, just as the real Molly did with the real Sherlock.


	12. Little Tongues of Fire

**Author's note, part 1: In an effort o reach as many of my readers as possible, I am asking for a response. I am planning a T-rated diary which chronicles the real Molly's thoughts from just before meeting Sherlock, through post Sherrinford. It would be a companion to my Journey story and would eventually contain entries she writes to him during their engagement, because she wishes to give it to him as a wedding present. The first mention of her diary is in chapter 70 of Journey which I published today. As a reader, would this interest you and would you review it? It means a lot of extra writing and commitment for me. Thanks.**

The princess entered her bedchamber and sat at the writing desk. She felt as though tongues of fire were flickering within her, so intense were the emotions evoked by the prince.

Kaitlyn's words to her had affected her more than she thought. She felt weak, felt sure that if Prince Sherlock came to her with the intention of making love to her, she would not deny him. Her whole body responded to his every touch. The thought of the prince touching her, her breasts, other parts of her body, made her breath quicken.

Instinctively though, Princess Molly knew he would not come to her tonight, despite being in the bedchamber next to hers. The prince had too much honour and respect for both his brother and herself, to follow the desires of his heart, even though they were matched by her own.

Despite the lateness of the hour, Molly decided to write to her mother.

She took up quill and ink, finding stationery paper in the desk drawer, and began to write.

 ** _Dearest Mama,_**

 ** _We have successfully made the journey to Bakeristan and Holmes castle. It is a magnificent castle._**

 ** _We met the king upon our arrival, but he was immediately called away to tend to a matter elsewhere in the kingdom. His brother, Sherlock has been showing me around._**

 ** _Oh Mama, what am I to do? The prince and I have fallen in love. Just as you and Papa were devoted to one another, I now understand the love you shared, for Sherlock and I feel the same way._**

 ** _How can I go through with marrying the king now? Sherlock plans to talk to his brother upon his return, but our betrothal ball is set for this Saturday. I suppose that if things do not go our way, I shall do my duty and marry the king, because I would not wish you to be harmed as a result of my running away with the prince. My heart will be broken though, if I marry the king._**

 ** _I know you will be unable to respond to this letter before the ball. All I can do is humbly ask for your prayers. Pray that King Mycroft will be receptive to his brother, and that a resolution can be found._**

 ** _I wish you were here, Mama. I am vastly afraid that Step-Papa will discover that the prince and I are in love. I feel sure he would vent his wrath upon me in the worst physical way if he became aware of it._**

 ** _Please write to me soon, Mama. I miss you._**

 ** _Your loving daughter,_**

 ** _Amelia (Molly)_**

Princess Molly laid down the quill and folded up the letter. She then summoned Kaitlyn.

When Kaitlyn arrived, Molly handed her the letter. "Please see that this is sent off to my mother. It is important that nobody but she read it."

Her lady's maid looked at her shrewdly. "You talked about the prince in it, didn't you?"

The princess sighed. "Of course I did. She's my mother. She has always wanted what is best for me. I know she will be glad I have finally found a man to love, who feels the same. But I also heed her prayers for us. It is such a delicate situation."

"I still think you and the prince should just make love already. He is in the bedchamber next door, so it would not be difficult."

Molly felt her cheeks redden, even as her wayward thoughts turned to the handsome man so close by. "I...I suggested it to him," she confessed. "But he is an honourable man, and does not wish to do anything that would cause a scandal or dishonour to his brother."

"Speaking as your friend, Molly - honour be damned! Is not love more important than honour?

"Oh, Kaitlyn, you do not understand," sighed the princess. "In a royal house, honour is of the highest consequence. Love is not even given consideration. My parents were very lucky to have a love-match, but it is rare."

"Then all we can do is hope for the best. I shall say a prayer also for you."

"Thank you."

Kaitlyn assisted Princess Molly to undress, then withdrew, taking the letter with her.

Molly slipped into bed. Once again, her thoughts turned to Sherlock. What would the prince do if she opened the door and went into his bedchamber? Would he reject her? Or would he take her in his arms and kiss her? Would he touch her breasts, perhaps kiss them too? At these very disturbing thoughts, thoughts that only served to make those tongues of fire flicker higher, the princess finally fell into a troubled sleep.

 **.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../**

Molly Holmes shifted restlessly in her sleep, her body reacting to the feelings her dream counterpart was having.

Sherlock's lips grazed her ear as he whispered. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

Molly's eyes opened. She turned in her husband's embrace to say drowsily, "The poor princess. She wants the prince so badly, but she is supposed to marry his brother."

"What prince?" asked Sherlock, sounding a little confused.

"Prince Sherlock, of course," responded Molly,

"Oh." The detective's voice held a note of comprehension. "I suppose you've been having a dream."

"Mhm," murmured Molly. "She was tempted to go to his bedchamber and offer herself to him."

"Is that so?" inquired Sherlock with interest, sliding his hand along his wife's body. "What do you think he would have done to her?"

Molly pressed herself against her husband and whispered, "Hopefully he would have kissed her."

"Like this?" The sleuth began placing butterfly kisses along the side of his wife's face.

"Kisses all over," she responded, still half in her dream state. It was as if she were Princess Molly and her prince was kissing her.

Sherlock's lips claimed her own in a deep, sensual kiss and Molly sighed into his mouth. Her hands reached up to stroke his lovely ebony curls languidly.

Sherlock's hand moved to touch her breast, squeezing it gently and Molly moaned, "Yes Sherlock, oh my prince." She came fully awake when her husband suddenly withdrew from her. "Sherlock? What's wrong?"

"I am not going to compete with a fantasy dream prince, Molly," her husband said in an aggrieved tone.

"What? What do you mean?" The pathologist cast her thoughts back, trying to make some sense of what Sherlock was saying. Then she remembered. Prince Sherlock had been kissing her, and she was Princess Molly. She hastily reached for her husband. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I was half asleep, but I'm not now. I want you, not the prince - you, Sherlock Holmes, my detective."

He huffed, but moved back in towards her. "You're not going to start getting sick again? Are you feeling better? It was bloody awful trying to get some sleep without you, knowing how sick you were."

Molly nuzzled his neck. "I don't know how long it will last, but for now I'm feeling fine. And I definitely would like it if we could spend some time in non-verbal communication."

"How much time?"asked her husband in a silky voice that made Molly tremble.

"As long as you need."

Sherlock's lips cane down on hers and he started kissing her again, with more ardour and passion. Molly felt those little tongues of fire rising within her as his right hand caressed her neck and left moved to curve around her breast possessively. The pathologist drifted her fingers delicately along her husband's chest, eliciting an involuntary intake of breath. She loved touching his chest and he always gave a most satisfying reaction when she did so.

Ever so slowly and tantalizingly, he moved his hand lower, circling her hip, then giving her bum a little squeeze. Molly began to press herself against him in mute supplication, wanting more. Sherlock groaned at the contact of her body against him, wantonly pressing against his own need.

But still he resisted, touching her instead in ways that made her breath quicken further, igniting her into an all-consuming flame until she cried out, and at last he claimed her for his own, taking his own pleasure. Together they moved, loving each other, adoring each other until their passion peaked, then subsided into quiet contentment.

The pathologist lay with her husband, feeling the comfort of his arms around her and the touch of his lips on her forehead.

"So, am I better than that prince of yours?" he asked huskily.

Molly giggled. "He never got to that point with the princess," she teased.

At her husband's huff, she snickered. "Sherlock, you are the most wonderful husband and lover in the world. Satisfied?"

For answer his arms tightened about her. Then he said, "I'm sorry to interrupt your dream. I hope you can get back into it. I want to know how this prince of yours compares to me."

Molly snuggled into her husband's embrace even closer. "I'm sure he will be perfect for Princess Molly, but you are perfect for me, sweetheart." Abruptly she sat up, and scrambled for the bathroom.

Sherlock stared after her, calling, "Are you getting sick again?"

"Nope. Just a call of nature," she called back.

When she got back into bed, she cuddled against her husband once. more. To her surprise he began to sing softly in her ear, "'Guten Abend, Gut' Nacht, mit Rosen bedacht, mit Näglein besteckt, Schlupf unter die Deck.'"

Molly smiled. Her husband was singing Brahms' Lullaby, in the original language. "Where did you learn that?"'

He stopped singing. "I learned it on YouTube. Now hush. I'm singing to the baby." He placed a protective hand over her as yet flat belly. "Maybe you will get back to sleep and dream more about your prince."

Molly rolled her eyes, but accepted the gesture, allowing herself to be lulled back to sleep by her husband's sweet singing.

Whatever magic was contained in his voice, it worked, and the dream resumed.

* * *

 **Author's note, part 2:** So, this chapter contains both the princess and the real Molly. Did you enjoy the real Molly's return to wakefulness? What did you think of her slip in calling Sherlock her prince? Did you enjoy Sherlock singing to his unborn baby?


	13. The Music Of Love

Prince Sherlock made his way downstairs to the breakfast room. He had not slept well, unsurprisingly. Sleeping was difficult, knowing that the woman he loved was only separated from him by a door and a few feet.

A footman was waiting at the door of the breakfast room. "Your Highness, this message has come for you." He handed the missive to the prince, then added, "Also, Prince Culverton sends his regrets. He shall be taking breakfast in his room later."

The prince nodded, as the footman withdrew. Undoubtedly the Bartonian had imbibed freely of the ale at the local inn the previous night. He was glad the man would be absent. The atmosphere would be different without his boastful presence.

Sherlock opened the letter and began to read. It was from his friend John. Apparently his friend had been at the Fox and Hound the previous night and had heard the boasting of Prince Culverton that his "daughter" was soon to announce her betrothal to the king. Sherlock frowned when he read that. How dare the man speak in such a manner before things were made official! John went on to say he was planning to visit the castle that afternoon to see the princess for himself. The prince groaned at that. There was no getting out of it, and his friend was no fool. He'd figure out the way things were pretty fast.

Sherlock heard movement and looked up from the letter, expecting to see his mother, but it was Molly. She looked as if she too had not slept well, although he thought she still looked beautiful in her light blue morning gown.

"Molly," Sherlock breathed, walking to her and taking her hand, and kissing her cheek. He cursed himself for his foolishness when his mother entered, and he hastily dropped Molly's hand.

It was too little too late. The queen mother's sharp eyes had not missed the gesture. "What's going on here?" she asked, rather sharply.

"Nothing, Mother, I was just showing Molly, I mean Princess Amelia to her seat." Dammit, he really was not a good liar.

His mother narrowed her eyes. "You don't need to hold someone's hand to show them to the same seat they have been using for two days. Nor do they require a familiar kiss on the cheek. I think it's time you tell me what is going on. I know Prince Culverton is taking his breakfast in his bedchamber so we shall not be disturbed. I want the truth, now."

"Very well, Mother. If it is the truth you want, it is the truth you shall have." He took the princess's hand again, and deliberately raised it to his lips, feeling her quiver at his touch.

"So, that's how it is, is it?" asked his mother. "You would betray your brother? How could you? I should have known this would happen, should not have allowed you to accompany her alone when I saw the interest you were taking with her."

"It would have made no difference, Mother. For the first time in my life I have found a woman who shares my interests, but even before I knew that, there was a connection between us."

"Oh, my son," said the queen mother sadly, "of all the women in the kingdom, you had to find the one who was not available."

"She is not from this kingdom," he said fiercely, tightening his grasp on Molly's hand. He could see her trembling now, and her face was very pale.

"And what have you to say of this, princess?" inquired the older woman imperiously.

"I...I am sorry. I did not mean for this to happen," she said in a low voice.

The queen mother sighed. "Well, Sherlock, what do you propose to do about this situation?"

"I plan on speaking to Mycroft upon his return."

"Well at least you plan on telling the truth, that is something. However, the betrothal ball is on Saturday evening. I have already received acceptances from many of the people who have been invited."

The prince ran his hand through his curls in his usual frustrated manner. "I don't know the solution Mother, I just know I have found the one woman in the world for me, and if I cannot have her, there will never be anyone else."

"Do you feel the same, Princess Amelia?" questioned the elderly woman.

"Yes. But I am...prepared to do my duty...if I must," responded the princess. Then she turned and ran from the room.

Sherlock closed his eyes and put his hands to his face.

Then, unexpectedly, he felt the warmth of his mother's embrace. "Mother," he said brokenly, "what am I to do? I love her. How will I be able to bear it if she has to marry my brother?"

"Oh, my son, I am sorry you are going through this. For years I have prayed that you should find someone whom you could love. I had all but despaired of it happening. Forgive me, Sherlock. I already suspected you were in love with the princess. I just needed to hear it for myself, to confirm my suspicions. I wanted to make sure she felt the same way."

She continued, "I also needed to know what y9u planned to do about it. I am proud that you wish to do things honourably. I would expect nothing less from you. I shall speak also with Mycroft upon his return. Perhaps we can find a resolution together. Come, let us eat now."

"I am not hungry, Mother. I think I will go to the music room. I feel the need to play my violin."

"Very well, Sherlock. Shall I see you at luncheon?"

"I expect so," he said dully, before leaving the breakfast room.

Entering the music room, he took up his violin and began to play, not anything known, instead a tune that poured out his love for Molly. He closed his eyes and let the music come out. He was so intent on it that he was startled when he heard a soft voice say, "That is so beautiful, Sherlock."

Molly, his Molly stood there, just a few feet from him. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I...I came to play the pianoforte. What was that piece? It was so moving. It was as if you were pouring your heart and soul into it."

"I was. I was expressing my love for you." He gently placed his violin back onto the pianoforte and took both of her hands in his. "I am sorry for what happened earlier. My mother, well, she wishes to also speak on our behalf to my brother."

"She does?" Her voice held a note of hope in it.

"Yes, my darling." He released her hands then, so he could gently put his on either side of her face. Leaning down, he did what he had been longing to do since the previous night. He kissed her, tenderly and sweetly, feeling the entrancing softness of her lips. When her hands came up to thread themselves through his curls, he almost groaned. Her touch evoked such sensations in him.

Flames of passion rose in him as he feathered kisses along her face and his heart pounded in his breast. "My precious, my sweet," he murmured, holding her closely.

He forced himself to stop, before he lost control. He needed to tell her about John.

The prince led the princess to a row of chairs along the wall of the music room and sat, pulling her onto his lap.

"There is something I must tell you, my darling," he said.

"What is it?" asked Molly, with a note of trepidation in her voice.

"Remember how I told you about my best friend John, for whose wedding I composed the piece I played for you in the music room on the first day?"

"I remember."

"Well, he happened to overhear your step-father last night at 'The Fox and Hound,' boasting about your impending betrothal to the king."

Molly paled. "I had a feeling he would do so, even though It is not even official yet."

"Well, it is done now. My friend sent me a letter this morning, telling me he intends to visit this afternoon, to meet you. John is my best friend, and I will be unable to keep secret my feelings for you. He has long told me that 'romantic entanglement would complete me as a human being,' and I merely scoffed at him. He will be delighted to know I must eat my words, and that he was correct. I do trust he will keep our secret, however."

"Of course I understand you must be truthful with your best friend. What can I do?"

"When John arrives, I think I should speak to him first, before I introduce you to him. I suggest you find something to do, and I can come and find you later. It is imperative we find somewhere your step-father would not find us."

"How about the chapel? I have been wanting to visit it and spend some time in prayer, as I suggested yesterday. My step-father is not a religious man. He would never set foot inside a house of worship, unless it were for a marriage or funeral."

Prince Sherlock raised his hand to her face and stroked it. "How clever of you! Yes, I think that would work. There is a spare key for the chapel if you look for it. It is under a loose paving stone, next to a statue of the archangel Michael. I expect you should have enough light to see by through the stained glass windows once you enter the chapel."

The princess nodded her head. "I will find it. For now though, would you play your violin again for me?"

"If you kiss me first." With a little sigh, she leaned into him and their lips met once again.

Foolish idea, he thought dazedly, as he felt his heart beat accelerate once more. The combination of her sitting on his lap as well as kissing was so intimate. He ached for her and wondered if she could tell how much. Probably not, he decided. Thank God for voluminous petticoats. Reluctantly, he stood, pulling the princess up with him.

It was as well that his long coat hid the somewhat obvious evidence of his desire. He'd never had THAT particular problem before Molly came along. It was a little embarrassing that she affected him so much.

Retrieving his Stradivarius, Prince Sherlock repeated the tune he had composed for Molly, the notes already burned into his mind palace. He continued to play for the woman he loved, switching to other pieces that expressed the joy he felt in loving her, playing in a way he had never done before, when he had not known the power of love.

Molly listened raptly, her eyes locked on his, until finally he knew it must be time for them to get ready for luncheon.

He set the violin down once again and told her, "Go now and get ready for our luncheon. I shall wait a few minutes to make sure nobody knows we were together. He walked to her as he spoke, giving her one last kiss on the lips before she departed. After waiting about ten minutes, he too left the music room to return to his bedchamber and change before luncheon.

* * *

 **Author's note:** So yes, my clever reviewers, it appeared the queen had some inkling of what was happening before Sherlock's admission.

Are you looking forward to seeing John in this story? Did you enjoy the way Sherlock composed a tune for the woman he loved?


	14. A Princess Prays

As soon as Princess Molly reached the safety of her bedchamber, she pulled the bell rope for Kaitlyn.

As she waited, she thought about the prince's violin playing and how he made her feel. She knew that if he came to her bedchamber that night, she would not deny him. She was awash with the desire he evoked in her, these strange sensations she had never felt before, that clenching feeling low in her belly, that ache which would not go away. Her body vibrated to his every touch, as if she herself were a violin and he was playing her.

Kaitlyn entered the room with within a few minutes. "You look a little flushed,Your Highness, are you ill?"

The princess shook her head. "No, Kaitlyn. I...I was with the prince. He was playing for me in the music room."

"Looks more like you were playing together," said the lady's maid, rather impertinently.

Molly couldn't help but laugh. She knew her lady's maid was her best friend first, and as her best friend, Kaitlyn tended to be outspoken. "He is a most wonderful kisser," she confided. "His kisses make me tingle all over, and they make me...want him, to be close with him."

"You'd best not let your step-father see that expression on your face. I heard below stairs that he is planning on taking luncheon with you."

"Thank you for warning me. I shall attempt to keep my distance from Sherlock. He has a friend coming this afternoon. This friend, John, apparently overheard my step-father talking about my impending betrothal to the king, boasting about it."

Kaitlyn put her hands to her mouth. "Oh my God, Molly, that man is such a beast, but I am not surprised. He wishes to make certain you do not find any way to escape."

Princess Molly sighed. "I know. I told Sherlock's mother that I will do my duty, if I must. I know I cannot run away. My mother would be punished in my stead. If I must marry King Mycroft, I shall do so, but I shall hate every minute of it. My heart belongs to Sherlock." Tears sprang to her eyes as she spoke.

"The queen mother is aware of the situation?" asked Kaitlyn in surprise.

"She guessed it. In fact, I believe her intention was always to bring me and Sherlock together, once she saw the connection between us. She has told us she will talk with Mycroft upon his return as well, to see if there is a way for Sherlock and myself to be together. She is a very intelligent woman, so perhaps she will have success."

"We must just pray that either she or your prince can get through to the king."

"I am going to the chapel on the grounds after luncheon to spend some time in prayer."

"That's good, then," approved her friend. "Now, come, let me help you change for luncheon or you will be late, Your Highness."

A short time later, the princess made her way down to the dining hall. She was not looking forward to seeing Prince Culverton.

Unfortunately, her step-father was already in attendance in the dining hall, and he was the only one. "'So, my dear," he said with a false note of joviality in his voice, "what have you been up to this morning?"

"I...I was playing the pianoforte in the music room."

"Was the prince with you?" he asked suspiciously. Molly did not know why the man, who was usually quite ignorant of anything but his own importance, should be astute enough to suspect anything between Sherlock and herself.

"N...no, I was alone," she responded, cursing herself for that nervousness which always betrayed itself in a stammer.

He cast her another suspicious glance, but was unable to speak further on the subject as the queen mother entered the room with her son.

"Ah, good afternoon Prince Culverton," said the elderly woman. "I hope you are quite well?"

"Except for this confounded headache, pardon my language," responded the man.

The queen mother merely nodded her head graciously and they all settled down to a quiet meal. Molly carefully avoided looking at Sherlock, not wishing to betray in any way her feelings, or provide any ammunition for her step-father's suspicions.

The queen mother, as usual, tried to carry the conversation, chatting amiably. "Do you have anything planned for this afternoon, Prince Culverton?" She Asked. "If not, I should be delighted to show you our stables. We have some of the finest horseflesh at the castle that you will ever see."

Molly wondered if the woman was deliberately trying to find ways of keeping the older man occupied. That certainly seemed to be the case.

"That would be delightful," said the older prince. "Perhaps Prince Sherlock can accompany us."

"I will be unable to accompany you, unfortunately," responded Prince Sherlock. "My friend John is coming to the castle for a visit. We have not seen each other in some time, so I am looking forward to it."

"In that case, would you like to come to the stables as well, Amelia?" questioned her step-father.

"No, thank you, Step-papa, I may take a walk in the garden with my lady's maid. It is such a beautiful day."

The prince accepted her refusal without comment. Obviously he was not worried, because he knew the young prince would be occupied with his friend.

At the end of the meal, Molly excused herself first. She left the room and immediately went to the garden entrance. She followed the path in the garden,

As she walked among the beautiful flowers, she thought about the rose Sherlock had presented her with, and the way he had told her it was not as beautiful as she was. Her eyes searched for the discarded rose, which she finally found next to the path. Surprisingly, the blossoms had opened further and it still looked freshly picked. She lifted it to her nose, smelling its delicate fragrance, remembering her first kiss with Sherlock.

The princess had never been kissed before. She had dismissed the men who tried to court her, before they even got as far as kissing her hand. The prince's kiss, though unexpected, had been everything she had ever dreamed about, and more. It had awoken in her feelings she had never thought to experience for herself. It was wonderful, it was perfect, and every kiss since then was even more so.

She continued to walk along the path, rose in hand until the path forked. Instead of making the left to the gazebo, she headed along the path that curved to the right. If her calculations were correct, the path would lead her straight to the chapel. She was correct. The princess searched for the key to the chapel and found it exactly where Sherlock had said it would be.

After unlocking the door, Princess Molly stepped inside to the dim coolness of a small sanctuary. The chapel had several stained glass windows which provided enough illumination for her, as Sherlock had said, to make out several rows of pews on either side of a narrow aisle.

She walked slowly down the aisle and felt distinctly that this was a holy place, a place where God was present. There was a small altar at the front of the sanctuary, upon which a large Bible lay, with candles on either side. Behind the altar on the wall was a simple wooden cross. There were two small vestibules on either side, behind the altar, one from where the vicar would come out before a church service, and the other room which presumably contained sacred items which would be brought out on special occasions, like the chalice and plate used for communion. That room would also contain the register for all the marriages which would have been performed in the chapel over the years. Molly would have like to look at it, but the door was locked.

In front of the altar was a rail, with velvet cushions on which people could kneel to partake of communion. Instead of sitting in a pew, the princess decided to kneel at the railing. First however,she approached the altar and gently laid the rose onto it.

She returned to the railing, knelt, closed her eyes and began to pray fervently. Before anything else, she thanked God for bringing her here safely. She prayed for her mother, back in Bartonia, that she would be safe, and that somehow she could be spared Prince Culverton's wrath in the future.

Then she began to pray for Sherlock and herself. She prayed that somehow an answer could be found, that God would make a way for them to be together. She prayed the king would be understanding of their predicament, and that he would be willing to take the steps necessary to call off the betrothal.

Princess Molly remained in silent prayer and contemplation for some time, unnoticing of the time that passed, her hands clasped together with her elbows resting on the altar rail. She had no idea how much time had passed when finally, she heard the sound of the door to the chapel opening.

She stood somewhat stiffly, having been on her knees for so long, and turned around. Her lips curved in a welcoming smile as the man she loved walked towards her. There was a man at his heels, a blonde man who was considerably shorter than the prince and perhaps a year or two older. He had a kindly face, and Molly liked the look of him immediately.

Even as the prince reached her, his friend bowed formally to her and she curtsied.

Then Sherlock said, in his rich baritone voice that thrilled her senses, "John, I would like to introduce you to the one woman in the world who has captured my heart, Princess Amelia von Hooperstein."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Aren't Molly and Sherlock lucky to have the queen mother as an ally? I hope you liked the description of the chapel. What do you think John's reaction will be to his friend being in love?

Thanks for reading, and hopefully reviewing too :)


	15. Love Forbidden

**Thanks to Victorianlady79 for beta'ing.**

* * *

After the princess had exited the dining hall, Prince Sherlock waited a few minutes, then left as well. He spoke to the butler, instructing him to send John to the drawing room upon arrival.

The prince waited for his friend, pacing the carpet and contemplating what to tell John.

Fifteen minutes later, he was just about to head back out of the drawing room and see what was happening when the butler opened the door.

"John Watson, Your Highness," announced the butler, rather unnecessarily, as the blonde man entered.

"Took you long enough!" groused the prince.

"Nice to see you too, Sherlock," responded his friend, who happened to be the doctor for Holmes village. "Mary was having some trouble getting Rosie to settle. I had to sing her a nursery rhyme. Not that you'd know anything about it, but people in love tend to do things for each other."

Seeing the perfect opportunity to confess recent events to his friend, the prince took it.

"Actually, I understand more than you think," he responded, then hesitated.

John raised an eyebrow. "And what, my unsentimental friend, is that supposed to mean?"

Sherlock flushed, then took a deep breath. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. It's like this, you see. I...well, I've fallen in love."

John stared at him, frowning. "Are you jesting with me? Did you have a change of heart where the Lady Irene is concerned?"

"God, no!" exclaimed the prince. "Although that would most definitely have been less complicated."

"How the hell is falling in love complicated? You could have any woman in Bakeristan."

"Uh, that is rather the problem. She isn't from Bakeristan."

John looked at him uncomprehendingly. "I fail to see what difference that would make. Even a foreigner would be privileged to have the attentions of a prince, unless of course her affections are engaged elsewhere."

"I assure you, John, our affections are mutual. No, not affections," he shook his head, "it is love John. I love her, and she loves me."

"Then what is the problem? Marry the woman and give your mother all the grandchildren she longs for."

"Don't you think I want to do that?"

"How would I know? You told me you never intended to marry, that romantic entanglements were unfulfilling."

"I just hadn't met the right woman. I was a fool. Go ahead, you can say it."

"I won't, Sherlock. I'm happy for you. I still fail to see how there is a problem."

Prince Sherlock sighed heavily. "She is the one woman forbidden to me."

"Forbidden to you? How so? Is she pledged to someone else? When did you meet this woman anyway?"

"You may not have a mind palace John, but surely you can make a simple deduction?"

"Well, the only person I know of who you could have met from another country is..." his voice trailed away. Then he said, "Oh my God. It's the princess isn't it? The one who has come here to marry your brother?"

"It is," replied Prince Sherlock simply.

"Wow, Sherlock, you really did find the one woman you couldn't have. Nice work."

"Are you making fun of me?" asked the prince in an aggrieved tone. "Do you think I wanted this to happen? God knows, I tried to fight it, but she's mine John, she's perfect. She is intelligent, scientifically minded as I am, and she even has her own laboratory. I could not have asked, nor dreamed of anyone more perfect."

"I can't believe I'm hearing these words come out of your mouth. What happened to my cynical, totally logical friend?"

"Please don't tease me, John. I am only telling you because you are my best friend, and I know I can trust you to keep our secret."

"So you ARE permitting me to meet the princess, which is the reason I came to visit in the first place?"

"I know," huffed Sherlock. "I don't speak to you for weeks, but the minute you hear about the foreign princess, you feel compelled to visit."

"Mary insisted I come to see what she is like, the future queen, and I'm a good, obedient husband."

The prince rolled his eyes at his friend's words. After a moment though, he said despairingly, "How could God play such a cruel trick on me, to tempt me so with such forbidden love?"

"Thought you didn't believe in God."

"I didn't, but how can I deny His existence when I have found the other half of myself. It is not logical to consider that merely coincidence. Besides, Molly is a very devout woman of faith."

"Molly?" questioned the doctor.

"Yes, yes," said the prince impatiently. "Princess Amelia prefers to be called Molly, just as I prefer to use Sherlock, rather than my given name of William. Anyway, we are to meet with her at the chapel. She assured me her stepfather would never think to go there."

"Oh, the stepfather. I have a feeling that man would not approve of the betrothal not going forward. He certainly seems eager to be known as the future father-in-law of the king."

"Yes, indeed I am more concerned with his reaction than that of Mycroft. My brother may possibly sympathize with the plight of Molly and myself, but Culverton is sure to be a formidable enemy."

John nodded. "I am sorry, old chap. I hope, for your sake, that a solution can be found."

"So do I, John. Well, are you ready to meet the princess?"

"Meet the woman who managed to capture your heart? Hell, yes!"

"Very well, then let us go."

Prince Sherlock led his friend from the drawing room, to the side entrance to the garden. Then he walked quickly along the path to the chapel beyond the gardens.

The chapel was open, as he knew it would be. He entered the cool, dimly lit sanctuary and saw the figure of the woman he loved kneeling in an attitude of prayer at the altar rail, and his heart almost stood still as she rose, to smile at him. The afternoon sunshine filtering through the stained glass windows seemed to envelop her with an unearthly glow, as if she had descended from heaven just for him. He walked down the aisle, stopping a foot away from the princess.

John, who had been following closely behind, bowed formally to her, and she curtsied to him in return.

Then the prince spoke. "John, I would like to introduce you to the one woman in the world who has captured my heart, Princess Amelia von Hooperstein."

"How do you do?" asked Princess Molly graciously.

"I am well, Your Highness. It is a pleasure to meet you. May I say, I quite understand why my friend has fallen for you."

The princess blushed. "Thank you, but it is I who am the fortunate one, to have received his love. Please though, let us not hold with formality. You are Sherlock's best friend, and I would like for you to call me Molly."

"Thank you, I am honoured, Molly, and you must call me John."

Molly smiled at him shyly. "I shall be delighted to do so, John. Obviously, Sherlock has explained about...us." She looked up at the prince as she spoke, and he took her hand, kissing it.

"He has," said the doctor solemnly, "and I am deuced sorry about it. I have long wished that my friend would fall in love, but this is obviously not the ideal situation."

"Indeed it is not," she agreed. "I have been praying that somehow, someway we can find a way to resolve the situation." She glanced up at the prince again and he gave her a heartwarming smile.

"Perhaps you will be surprised to know, but I too have been praying for us, my love." His deep voice sent thrills through her, even as he knew his words pleased her.

"Well, what can I do to help the two of you?" asked John.

"There really is nothing you can do. I suppose you could put a word in the ears of your patients or other people you see, that Prince Culverton's behaviour was rather precipitous, and he should not have talked about the ball as if the betrothal has already been announced."

John nodded. "I could certainly do that. That way, if the betrothal is not announced after all, people will assume he was speaking out of turn."

"Did you receive an invitation for the ball?"

"Actually I did. I did not notice it until this morning, after I had sent my message to you. The wording is somewhat damaging, however - "A betrothal ball for my son" were the words I believe.

"Yes, I wish Mother would have just said it was a ball. I expect she thought, due to the late notice, calling it a betrothal ball would ensure the acceptance of almost everybody. After all, it is not every day that a king announces he is to be wed."

Molly, whose hand was still in Sherlock's, squeezed his hand tighter.

"Well, Mary and I will be at the ball for certain. Mary is especially looking forward to getting out of the house. She has not had an opportunity to wear a fancy gown since before Rosamund was born."

"Speaking of Rosamund, who will watch her while you are gone?"

"Oh, the housekeeper, Mrs. Hudson of course. She is devoted to the babe."

"I am glad you are coming, no matter how the evening ends," said the prince.

"Well, I suppose I should be getting home now, anyway. I don't want to leave Mary alone with the baby for too long, she has been cutting her first tooth, and has not been sleeping well because of it."

Sherlock turned to the princess. "Did you wish to remain here, or would you like to return to the castle now with John and myself?"

"I have finished with my prayers, so I shall come with you," responded Princess Molly.

The three of them left the chapel and Sherlock locked it, replacing the key under the loose stone. Then they walked together back towards the castle. Sherlock had his fingers laced with Molly's as they walked, and she asked anxiously, "Is it wise for us to be holding hands so?"

"As soon as we are almost within sight of the door to enter the castle, I will let go," he assured her. "For now, I would like to enjoy the feel of your hand in mine while I can."

John, who was walking right behind them, commented, "I still can't believe you are talking this way. Mary will be beside herself when I tell her, if you will permit me to do so."

"You may tell her, but nobody else. Especially not Mrs. Hudson. I hear she is an inveterate gossip. She would never be able to keep our secret."

"Of course I won't tell her, Sherlock," exclaimed John, sounding rather affronted.

Sherlock merely nodded. As they approached the last turn in the gardens before the door came into sight, the prince dropped Molly's hand.

As they reached the door, Princess Molly said, "I will leave the two of you to say your goodbyes and go to the music room. I look forward to seeing you on Saturday, John."

"And I, you," he replied. With one last longing look at the prince, she took her leave and went to the music room.

She went immediately to the pianoforte and began to play. Playing always helped to calm her during times of agitation. She half hoped the prince would join her, but he didn't. After some time, the princess went upstairs to change for dinner.

Kaitlyn was already in the bedchamber, overseeing the insertion of several more gowns into the wardrobe.

"Look, princess," enthused Kaitlyn. "Here is a ballgown. I expect it is what you will be wearing on Saturday. Everyone in the servants hall can speak of nothing but the betrothal ball."

Princess Molly glanced at the gown perfunctorily, then stopped and stared.

By this time, the servants who had been carrying in the new gowns had departed, and Molly and her lady's maid were left alone.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" inquired Kaitlyn.

The princess laid her fingers gently against the fabric. "Yes, it certainly is, but it looks almost like a wedding gown, were it not for the silver bodice. The skirt is white."

The gown was exquisite, and obviously extremely costly. The whole bodice was sewn with silver beads all over it, and the chiffon skirt would be very full indeed, once Molly wore the petticoats under it. The skirt itself already had many layers of the chiffon. Fortunately, the material was very light, so it would not be heavy to wear. In fact, her under petticoats Would undoubtedly weigh more than the skirt of the gown itself. The princess was pleased to notice that, despite the low décolletage of the gown in front, the back of it was high and would cover her back, eliminating the necessity of a shawl to cover her scars.

As if reading her thoughts, Kaitlyn said, "It is fortuitous this gown does not have a low back. It would spoil the effect if you needed a shawl or scarf...I will also be able to dress your hair more elaborately, having most of it up,with some curls around the sides and the back of your head."

Molly smiled at her friend. Kaitlyn was an excellent hairdresser. "I am sure you will make me look beautiful. I just wish the betrothal ball were for Sherlock and myself," she said wistfully.

Kaitlyn impulsively gave her friend a hug. "I know how difficult this must be for you, but you must try not to worry too much. Enjoy what time you have with the prince."

"I will try. Those memories may be all I will have to comfort me in the future." She blinked back tears, determined not to cry. It was almost dinner time and she wanted Sherlock to admire her.

"There are another two evening gowns for you to choose from," said Kaitlyn.

The princess was astonished at the speed her trousseau was being made. There must be dozens of women working on them, throughout the day and night as well, she thought.

She looked at the two newest evening gowns and selected one of azure blue satin. It had a high back so she would not need to wear anything over the bodice. Her back was feeling significantly better. The ointment that Kaitlyn used on her skin each night had served its purpose to take away most of the sting.

After she was dressed, Princess Molly descended the stairs, hoping she would be able to spend some time alone with Prince Sherlock after dinner. She was the last to arrive, and the three people in the room looked up as she entered. But she had eyes only for the prince, and was gratified to see the undeniable look of admiration in his eyes. Except for that first brief glance however, he was careful to not focus his attention on her, and the dinner was a long, dreary affair.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I always enjoy writing scenes between Sherlock and John. What did you think of their conversation?

Did you enjoy reading about a very much alive Mary? I thought, being a dream, it would be nice for Mary to be alive for once!


	16. Hungry for Love

**Thanks to Victorianlady79 for beta'ing!**

* * *

After the prince and princess had parted ways, the young man walked his friend to the entrance hall to say farewell. He was anxious to get to the music room and spend some time with Molly before dinner.

Unfortunately, no sooner had he said goodbye to John, than Prince Culverton returned from the stables, accompanied by the queen mother.

"Ah, Prince," beamed the older man. "I was hoping to see you. I'd really like to know more about the magnificent animals in your stable. Your mother says you also enter some into local races. That one horse, Silver Blaze, is a particularly fine piece of horseflesh."

Much to his dismay, the foreign prince insisted on Prince Sherlock talking about horses in the drawing room until it was time to go upstairs to change for dinner.

The prince was decidedly irritated by the fact he had hardly spent any time alone with the woman he loved. Tomorrow night King Mycroft would be returning, so they had but one more day together. He hoped Prince Culverton would have other things to do after dinner.

When the prince went downstairs to the dining hall, it was to find the older man conversing with the queen mother, still on the topic of horses. He was making flattering comments about the horses, and Sherlock had the distinct feeling the man was hoping to be offered the gift of a horse, but he was not about to do that - unless of course, it would ensure Molly's freedom, which would be a vain hope anyway.

When Molly entered the room, he drew in his breath. She was looking so lovely, his heart started to immediately beat faster at the sight of her sweet beauty. It was all he could do to keep from looking at her during the meal, knowing he would betray his feelings if he were to do so.

Once the meal was finished, the prince was about to head off to the library, when Prince Culverton stopped him.

"I thought, as it is a quiet evening, perhaps we could play some bridge? It has been a long time since I have enjoyed playing cards."

It would have been churlish to refuse, so the foursome made their way to the drawing room where a table for cards was set up.

The foreign prince decided they should play several rubbers, pairing with a different partner each time.

Prince Sherlock was quite a competent bridge player. He won when he was playing with Prince Culverton, but found it impossible to beat the older man when paired with his mother. Then, when he and Molly were paired, they were too busy casting discreet glances in each other's direction to concentrate properly on the game, and the foreigner was delighted to crow over the fact that he won, no matter with whom he was paired.

As the evening wore on, the young prince became more resentful. Time was slipping away, time he could be spending with Molly, talking to her about their common interests. If he was honest with himself, he was more irritated over the fact that he had not been able to kiss her as he had been longing to do since that morning.

The little group played another round of bridge, until finally, the prince's mother declared she was ready to retire for the night. Thankfully, there could be no game without four people, so the foreign prince said he would retire also. The hour was growing rather late anyway. Prince Culverton was in a jovial mood, having won all his games but one, in which the women had beaten the men, due in part by Sherlock's inattention because he was distracted by thoughts of Molly.

"Amelia, I will see you to your room," announced Prince Culverton. He seemed to be in a good mood, so Sherlock felt sure he was just wanting to see her settled, rather than planning to punish her for obscure reasons.

After the older man left with the princess, Sherlock's mother said. "I noticed the way you and the princess kept glancing at each other."

"Oh, God, I tried to not look at her. I hope her stepfather didn't notice."

"I'm sure he did not, he was too busy gloating over his wins. I only noticed myself because I saw how distracted you were."

The prince sighed. "I've barely spent any time with her today, and Mycroft will be home tomorrow night, if things go as he expects. I just want to have what time I can, in case things don't go as I wish them to when I speak with him."

The queen mother nodded sympathetically. "I know you are suffering, Sherlock, and it breaks my heart. I did hear from Mycroft today. He said the potential uprising has been averted,and he will most definitely be home tomorrow evening for dinner."

"And in the meantime my life hangs in the balance. I have to tell you Mother, if Mycroft decides he wishes to still wed Molly, and there is no hope for me, I will stay for the betrothal ball, and then I shall leave Bakeristan. I will not be able to bear being near the woman I love, knowing she will be with him, bearing his children. I will go to England, to one of your distant relatives and live out my life there, alone. Hopefully it will be far enough away that I will never hear of what is happening here." Even as he spoke, the prince realized he would indeed have to go somewhere isolated if the worst happened, and he felt as if it was certainly a possibility.

"Oh Sherlock, do not give up hope. I am not doing so. You know your brother cares deeply for you. Speak to him on his return, and I shall do so afterwards. Now go to bed and try to sleep"

"I shall try, Mother." He kissed the elderly woman on the cheek and went upstairs. In his bedchamber, the prince absently pulled on the bell rope, then allowed Wiggins to assist him in getting undressed.

The prince put on his nightshirt and climbed into his bed. For several minutes he tossed and turned, unable to sleep, his thoughts drifting to the woman in the bedchamber next door.

Had Prince Culverton left her at the door of her bedchamber? He hoped so.

Without really thinking of what he was doing, Sherlock found himself at the communicating door. It was probably locked, he thought, so he turned the handle, fully expecting to be denied entrance. He was somewhat surprised then to find that the door opened easily.

There was one candle yet burning in the princess's bedchamber, and the light from the fire also cast a dim glow in the room. He could see by the silhouette on the bed, that she was there.

He walked slowly, hesitantly towards her, not sure if she was already asleep. Then her voice came to him through the semi-darkness.

"I was hoping you would come," she said softly, as he approached the bed.

She sat up and he could see her hair was unbound, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. Her white nightgown, although not transparent, did nothing to disguise her sweet curves and he drew in his breath, feeling desire curl deep within his belly, as heat spread downwards.

He stood beside the bed and said hesitantly, "I wanted to make sure your stepfather behaved himself. He did not attempt to hurt you did he?"

Molly shook her head. "No. He was too busy crowing over his success at the card table, and wishing he had put a wager on his winning. Will you...will you sit down?"

The prince sat, then took her hand in his. "I missed you today," he said in a deep voice.

There was a note of laughter in her voice. "We were together for a great deal of it, except for this afternoon, when you did not come to the music room."

"I wished to, but your stepfather had other ideas, and kept me in conversation about horses until it was time for me to change for dinner. Besides, you know what I mean when I say I missed you."

"I do?" she asked, and he could hear a coquettish note to her voice.

"You wish me to tell you how you matter to me, how I have been longing to kiss your sweet lips since this morning?"

"I am not stopping you," she said softly, and with a groan, he took her in his arms.

He kissed her then, hungrily, desperately, expressing his love for her in the only way he could. To his surprise, he felt the princess slide her legs beneath her and rise up onto her knees so she could press herself closer to him.

He felt her drawing him down then, pulling him so he was laying atop her as she ran her fingers through his curls, tugging upon them insistently so he could not pull away.

For some time he gave himself over to the thrill of feeling her warm body beneath his, as his desire mounted. He knew she had to be aware of his own need, with no trousers and petticoats separating their bodies, but she seemed unafraid, instead lifting her body to connect more closely with his. He ached for her, ached to be with her, to make love to her.

His hands found her sweet breasts, caressing them even as he continued to explore the delights of her mouth, tasting her sweetness, her complete submission. She whimpered in pleasure at his touch and his senses ignited further.

He felt her breathing become shallow, even as his was. Oh God, he could even smell her, the scent that was uniquely hers, driving him wild with need for her. She was as lost as he.

"I love you, Sherlock. I want you. Please, make love to me."

Her words, instead of spurring him on, had the opposite effect. Slowly, he withdrew his lips from hers, his hands from caressing her and rolled off of her. It was the hardest thing he had ever done. His body was crying out for fulfillment, but he could not do it, must not do it. She was a virgin, and she must remain so. He could not betray his brother that way, no matter how desperately he wanted to be with the woman he loved. The hunger within him continued unabated and tears slid down his cheeks even as he heard the sound of her weeping.

He gathered her back in his arms and held her close, wanting her to understand. "My darling, I can't do that to my brother. He is an honourable man and, no matter how I feel, I must give him the opportunity to make a decision about your betrothal without forcing his hand. I would never forgive myself if I dishonoured him in that way. Can you understand that?"

"Yes, Sherlock," she said on a sob, and he held her, rocking her gently for several minutes until her sobs subsided and his own tears stopped. The desire slowly ebbed away, leaving a hollowness in its place.

He stroked her hair and whispered, "We will speak of this tomorrow."

She gave a huge, shuddering breath and reached her hands up to his face, feeling the wetness on his cheeks, even as he wiped her own tears. "I understand, Sherlock. We must be brave like soldiers, mustn't we?"

"Soldiers," he agreed, releasing her at last. He climbed off the bed, then leaned down to her for one last, chaste kiss, before returning to his own room and the cold bed that awaited him.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Hope you enjoyed seeing a little canon term at the end!

I really tried to highlight what a man of integrity the prince is here, despite his own feelings for the woman he,loves.

All feedback as usual welcome, even if it is only to say you enjoyed it or not. Constructive criticism also welcome.


	17. Love and Kisses

**Thanks to Victorianlady79 for beta'ing!**

* * *

Princess Molly awoke to the sound of a knock on the door.

She had spent another restless night. When Sherlock had come to her, she had decided she wanted him to make love to her. She was desperate to know his touch, to be with him so that she would have something to remember if she had to endure the rest of her life with a man she did not love.

She had been heartbroken when he had stopped. His touch on her body and her breasts had felt so natural, and she had not been in the least afraid. She knew he would have been gentle with her.

Now it was too late. The king would be returning this evening in all likelihood, and her fate would be sealed.

Molly sighed heavily and unlocked the door to admit her lady's maid.

"Good morning, Your Highness," chirped Kaitlyn. "How did you sleep?"

"I tossed and turned. I...tried to take your advice last night."

"My advice?"

"I asked Sherlock to make love to me, but he has too much honour." Tears came into her eyes again.

Kaitlyn put her arms around her friend. "He's a good man, Molly," she said, always knowing when the princess needed her friend, rather than her lady's maid. "Whatever happens, I will be there for you. Prince Culverton cannot force me to return to Bartonia. I have no family to speak of, and am content to be with you, wherever you may be."

"Thank you, Kaitlyn," whispered the princess. "That means a lot to me."

"What do you wish to wear, Your Highness?," asked Kaitlyn, switching back to her lady's maid role.

"I don't care," sighed Princess Molly. "You choose something for me."

"Very well." Kaitlyn opened the wardrobe and looked through the morning gowns, saying conversationally as she did so. "I have heard that another six gowns are due to arrive today." She selected a gown with a pattern of yellow daisies on a white background.

As she helped Molly to dress, the princess remarked, "I feel terrible for the seamstresses who must be working so hard on these gowns."

"Oh, you need not be distressed, Your Highness. I have heard they are being paid at double their usual rate, and all those long hours will make for some comfort in their futures."

"At least that is something." She submitted to having her hair put into a braided twist at the top of her head, then walked slowly to the breakfast room. She had lingered so long that she was last to arrive.

Even as Sherlock held her seat out for her as usual, the queen mother remarked, "I have heard from the king. He will be here in time for dinner."

Molly glanced at the young prince who showed no surprise at the news. Apparently he was already aware of this information. She said, forcing herself to sound pleased, "I am glad to hear of it. I take it that he was successful in attending to matters in the north?"

"Yes indeed, very successful. My son is a good and wise ruler."

They ate breakfast quietly. For once, even Prince Culverton had nothing to say. Molly couldn't help but glance over at Prince Sherlock every now and then. Each time she did so, his eyes were resting upon her as well. There was a grim set to his mouth, and she wondered if she was the cause. Perhaps he was cross with her for her forward behaviour?

Maybe in the light of day he was shocked at it, that she had acted so wantonly. How could she have acted so, and yet proclaimed herself to be a woman of faith, rather than one who followed merely the ways of the flesh? She was no better than a courtesan, offering her body to him without the benefit of marriage. For the first time, the princess felt ashamed of herself. She was a hypocrite.

Then she thought again. Yes, her actions had been shameful, but she was not the same as those women who went from man to man, offering their bodies in return for favours. She loved Sherlock, truly and deeply, and her actions had been those of a woman who desired him out of love, not asking for anything in return but his own love. Their love was pure and unsullied. She had no idea if he had been with a woman before, but she knew in her heart that he would never be with another woman going forward. They were soulmates. She herself would never be with another man, except that it would be forced upon her by the cruel machinations of her stepfather. If she had to endure the marriage bed with someone other than Sherlock, she would just have to close her eyes tightly and pretend it was Sherlock who was with her. She was still terrified at the thought, however.

Her eyes closed for a moment. _Not my will, but Yours. Not my will, but Yours_ , she prayed silently, and was comforted. Her future was in God's hands, and come what may, He would give her the strength to endure it.

The princess opened her eyes and glanced toward the man she loved, surreptitiously. His eyes were upon her yet again, and she wondered if they had been on her the entire time. She hoped her stepfather hadn't noticed. Then she saw Sherlock's lips form the words, "I love you."

She glanced quickly over at Prince Culverton, who fortunately was occupied in emptying the contents of his plate.

Daringly, Molly returned her gaze to the still watching young prince and mouthed back "I love you, too." His eyes lit up then and he smiled slightly. Suddenly, she realized his manner had not been because of her behaviour, but because he had feared she was angry with him for refusing to bed her.

She let out a sigh of relief, and Prince Culverton glanced up from his plate and said sharply, "what ails you, that you should sigh so, Amelia?"

"Oh," she answered, spearing a piece of sausage on her fork, "I am just enjoying this delicious breakfast."

She was relieved when the older man said, "It is a vast improvement over the food at our castle. I must find a better chef."

Thankfully, the meal was soon over. "I think I should like to take some exercise this morning and go riding," announced Prince Sherlock to no one in particular.

"Sherlock, I should very much like to ride as well," announced Prince Culverton. "After seeing the many examples of fine horseflesh in your stables it makes me anxious to see if they are as good to ride as they appear to be."

"I should like to ride also," said Molly. She had brought one riding habit with her. Better to be with Sherlock in some manner, even if they had to contend with her stepfather.

"Oh, Prince Culverton," interposed the queen mother. "I was hoping we could spend some time discussing the menu for the ball on Saturday night. I am most anxious for your opinion, and time is short." She glanced at Sherlock as she spoke and gave a slight nod, unnoticed by the older prince. Molly could tell she was trying to give the young couple some time to themselves.

Fortunately, Prince Culverton seemed extremely gratified that the queen mother wished to consult with him in such an important matter, and he agreed readily enough. "I would be delighted to help with the planning," he said.

The elderly woman rose. "Shall we retire to the drawing room then?"

"Of course," said Prince Culverton, standing also, and following the queen mother from the breakfast room.

Sherlock and Molly remained, and she looked at him shyly. He rose and came to her side, taking her hand as she also stood. "Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For saying you also wished to go riding. I spoke with my mother before your stepfather entered the room, asking her to divert him, should he ask to ride with us. I am very pleased she was successful."

"My stepfather likes to feel important. It was very clever of her to think of something for him to do, that would capture his attention so fully."

"And now," there was a caressing note in his voice, as he looked at her, "we shall have some time together today, alone."

"Yes, alone," she said rather breathlessly. Even if the most she would have to remember him by was stolen kisses, she would treasure every one. By the look he gave her, she knew he was feeling the same.

"Go, my love and get into your riding habit. I'll have a footman show you to the stables once you return downstairs. I already made arrangements earlier to have horses saddled for us."

"What would you have done if my stepfather had insisted on coming along?"

"I would have said the other horse was for him, and had another saddled for you."

As they were quite alone, with no footman to clear away the breakfast dishes until Sherlock rang the bell, he bent his head towards her for a sweet kiss that made her lips tingle. "I'll see you soon, my darling."

Princess Molly headed upstairs, where she found Kaitlyn already waiting.

"Kaitlyn, I was not expecting you to be here, I thought I would have to summon you."

"I was informed below stairs as soon as my own breakfast was over that you would have need of me. You are to go riding, are you not?"

"Yes, but how...I did not even know myself until I offered to join the prince."

"Apparently he knows your heart, knows you would choose to be with him. That is not so difficult to imagine. I have already laid out your riding habit."

As soon as the princess was ready, she walked downstairs and found a footman ready to take her to the stables.

Once there, she saw two magnificent horses saddled and ready. One was a pure black stallion named Hercules. The other was a slightly smaller stallion with a white star on his forehead, named Jupiter.

"I have had Jupiter saddled for you," Prince Sherlock informed her. "He is slightly less spirited than Hercules, but still requires a good rider to contain him. I am assuming you are well acquainted with horses?"

"Of course," nodded Princess Molly. "I have ridden since I was a child."

The prince himself helped her into the saddle, before getting into the saddle himself.

They rode for around a half hour, until they approached a grove of trees.

Sherlock alighted from his horse, then helped Molly down from hers. He pulled a flask out from a saddle bag and offered her a drink. The princess drank thirstily, then said, "Thank you, Sherlock."

Sherlock took her to a small clearing in which an upturned log rested.

The area was shaded, and flowers were blooming on bushes around the clearing. It was idyllic looking and very romantic, thought the princess.

"It's beautiful here," breathed Molly. "How did you discover it?"

"By accident one day, when I was out riding. My horse stumbled and was favouring one leg, so I decided to give him some time to rest it before I rode home. I wandered into the trees and found this clearing."

They sat together on the log and Sherlock took her hand. "Molly," he began, "I'm sorry about last night. Believe me when I tell you, I wanted desperately to make love to you, with you. There is something I should tell you though."

He hesitated, then continued, "I...I've never been with a woman. Until I met you, I told my brother I considered myself married to my work, because it was the only thing I had any passion for. Then I met you, and you changed everything, unlocked all these emotions I never thought were possible. There have been women who desired me, even a courtesan who told me in no uncertain terms what she wanted me to do to her, but I couldn't, Molly, because I never felt any desire for her, or anyone."

"But you do truly...desire me?

The prince smiled ruefully. "I should have thought that was fairly obvious, given the state I was in with you last night."

The princess blushed. "I am rather glad that we both lack...the practical experience."

"Indeed. For now, however, I just wish to spend time with you, kissing you. But please, do not ask me to make love to you again. I am not sure if I would be strong enough to resist you a second time. Can you be content with just kissing?"

"Of course. If...if the worst happens, I will cherish every moment I have had with you, and I will relive it in my mind whenever things get...difficult."

"Oh, my darling, my Molly." And then he was crushing her to him, his lips were on hers and he was kissing her passionately, with a fervour that showed how much she meant to him. She thrilled at the touch of his lips, aching for him, yet knowing she must not say anything about the fire that roared through her, inflaming her senses.

He moved his mouth to trail kisses along her cheek to one earlobe, kissing it before he repeated the pattern with the other. His fingers tangled in her hair as he held her close to him, plundering her mouth with his tongue one moment, and the next sucking gently on her lower lip, before covering her mouth with his full, sensual lips. Molly felt that if she died in that moment, with the exquisite feel of his lips on hers, she would die content.

When they were both gasping for breath, Sherlock finally released her, pressing his forehead against hers.

"My darling, we must stop now or I won't be able to. We should be heading back to the castle anyway. It's a good thing we have a half hour journey ahead of us. Your lips look quite swollen and red. I hope I did not hurt you."

"Not at all," she assured him. "Your kisses, they make me feel alive, vibrant. They are perfect. But will...I see you again today?"

"I hope so. I will go to the library after lunch. After dinner however, when my brother is here, I will be speaking with him. At the very least I will come to your bedchamber and tell you what his answer is. With the ball tomorrow evening, if it goes ahead, things will probably be too busy for us to spend any time together." He took her hand, kissing each finger, then her palm, before pulling her up from the log.

She brushed off the dead bark that had clung to her riding skirt and walked out of the shaded clearing, back to where the horses were contentedly cropping the grass. Prince Sherlock helped her back into the saddle, pulled himself onto his own horse, and they headed back towards the castle.

* * *

 **Author's note:** What did you think of Prince Sherlock's confession? I find the prince to be just like the Sherlock from the show. Hope you liked the "lack the practical experience" line, so much fun for me to put in canon.

Is your heart breaking for them?


	18. Beauty or Brains?

**Thanks VictorianLady 79 for beta'ing.**

* * *

As they rode back towards the castle Prince Sherlock was wondering desperately how he would manage if he lost Molly. No matter how far he travelled, he would be a shell of a man because he would have lost the best part of himself.

He glanced at the princess riding beside him. The sunshine glinted into her hair, creating highlights in the soft brown colour. Her face though looked as drawn as he felt his own was and he could see her hands were clasping the reins tighter than necessary. She was suffering as he was.

In a way, it would be worse for her than himself. He could leave and be alone. Molly, however would have to keep up a brave front in public and she would be subject to his brother's advances, as well as probably having to put up with an unfaithful husband. His heart ached at the thought.

They reached the stables and a groom was ready to take the horses to be brushed down and curry-combed.

The prince thought about offering his arm to the princess, but decided against it. The was no telling who might be watching. Instead, they walked side by side back to the front entrance of the castle, which was opened by the ever vigilant butler.

As it was time to change for lunch, and there was no sign of anybody about, Prince Sherlock continued to accompany the woman he loved upstairs. Instead of retreating into his bedchamber, he walked the few steps further to open her door. He peered inside and was satisfied it was empty. Heaven forbid her stepfather might be lurking in there. "I'll see you soon," he said softly, glancing along the corridor to make sure nobody was around before giving her a sweet kiss.

After changing for luncheon, the prince made his way to the dining hall. His mother was there with the odious foreign prince who fortunately appeared to be in a good mood.

"Did you have a good morning, Mother?" he asked politely.

"Yes indeed," she responded. "The food for the ball will be superlative. I am sure our guests will be talking about it for weeks."

He barely registered the words as he noticed the entrance of the princess. As usual she made his heart thunder in his chest when he saw her. Their eyes met for a moment and then he looked away just after she did the same, not wishing to betray his feelings.

At the end of the meal, once again, the queen mother came to her son's rescue, saying, "Prince Culverton, shall we look at the guest list together? I thought to tell you who is coming and what position they hold in Bakeristan so you can converse with them easily."

"Yes, yes, good idea," enthused Prince Culverton. Once again, Sherlock could tell the man enjoyed feeling important, and it made him forget what his stepdaughter was doing.

"I will see you at dinner," Prince Sherlock told the little group, as he rose and rang the bell for the footmen to clear away the plates.

"Don't forget, dear, his mother reminded him. "Mycroft will be present for dinner." As if he could forget, the prince thought.

He merely nodded and departed for the library, where he picked up one of his books at random and tried without success to read.

Soon, a soft knock sounded at the door and he opened it to see Molly standing there shyly. "It is good that my stepfather is so well occupied by your mother," she commented.

"I am certain she is doing it for us, Molly. She despises the man as much as I do, so she is sacrificing much to keep him distracted and endure his company." He locked the door as he spoke and returned to his chair.

''Tis but a small sacrifice she makes," the princess said." There was a bleak note in her voice as she added. "Our sacrifice will be more permanent."

"Let us not think of that just now," Sherlock pleaded. "We can still hope for the best."

"It is hard to have hope when everything for the ball has already been arranged."

The prince patted his knee. "Come, my love. Let me hold you."

She obediently sat on his lap, resting her head on his shoulder even as her arms slid around his waist.

His arms came around her and he touched her back gently. "Do you still have any pain?" he inquired, feeling the raised line of scabs beneath the fabric of her gown.

"No, Sherlock. My back is healing well without the extra beatings that usually serve to open the wounds that have begun to heal. That, at least is one advantage to being here. But oh, Sherlock, how my heart aches. It hurts, like a physical pain but, much worse than what I have ever endured at my stepfather's hands."

"I know, darling," he said. "My heart hurts too. I have heard of the term 'heartache' and now I understand what it is like to experience it." He lifted his hand to turn her face to his and looked deeply into her eyes. Then, as if a magnet drew them together, their lips were touching, melding together so infinitely sweetly. Her lips were so incredibly soft and responsive. How had he lived for twenty-nine years before experiencing this? It was exquisite torture.

He deepened the kiss, feeling his body's response, that longing to do more than kiss her. It was a longing that would most likely never be fulfilled. She was the only woman who mattered, the one who counted, and if not her, there would never be anyone else. She gave a little sigh of pleasure against his mouth and he couldn't help but trail his free hand along her shoulder, then sliding it down to gently cup her breast beneath the fabric of her gown. She gasped but did not pull away, instead taking her hand from around his waist to place it over the hand cradling her chest, inviting him to touch her. Her chest was heaving and he I felt its rapid rise and fall, knowing he was once again losing himself in her, knowing he was quickly reaching the point of no return.

With an effort, he pulled back and dropped his hand. "I'm sorry, darling. You tempt me so. Please, just let me hold you. I want to remember this moment, as I hold you in my arms, feel your sweet body leaning into me."

Molly's hand returned to his waist, resting her head once more against his chest, where he know she could feel his thundering heart. He kissed her hair, feeling her warmth, waiting for his breathing to slow. When he felt sufficiently recovered, the prince rose, pulling the princess up with him as he did so and setting her down gently.

Trying for a casual tone he said, "Would you like to look at the science periodical that has not yet made its way to Bartonia?"

"That would be lovely, Sherlock," she responded in the same casual tone. He knew their voices were saying something entirely different than their hearts, but for now, it was what they had to do.

He brought a chair so they could sit together, and pulled the periodical towards him so they could peruse it together.

It wasn't long before the prince and princess were engaged in animated discussion about the latest advances in medicine. Prince Sherlock thought again how truly unique Molly was. It was unfortunate his brother would not appreciate her brains the way he did. Yes, King Mycroft had an eye for beauty, and Sherlock was sure he would find Molly to be most pleasing, but he would not care that she had brains and was very clever.

Sherlock couldn't help but feel resentful at the waste it would be, if Molly were not able to share her beautiful mind with others.

After some time, Prince Sherlock inquired, "Would you like a rest before dinner? If so, you should probably head upstairs now."

The princess shook her head. "I just want to be with you while I have the chance. You do not mind, do you?"

Sherlock put an arm around her shoulders and felt her relax against him. "Of course I do not mind. It is what I want too. I just wanted to make sure you were not feeling fatigued."

"I do not feel fatigued with you. I feel alive, vibrant. How much longer can we stay here before I must change for dinner?"

The prince took out his timepiece. "About ninety minutes."

"Will you...kiss me again?"

He chuckled. "I'm not sure I could sustain ninety minutes of kissing you without moving on to...other things, but how about we continue our discussion for another hour or so, and then I will kiss you before you go upstairs." Then he added, with a wry smile, "that way, the time restriction will ensure that I do not take things too far with you."

Princess Molly nodded her understanding, and for the next hour they continued to talk, this time switching to learning more about each other's country. The prince had not been particularly interested in the affairs of another country, but now he found himself listening with interest, because it was her country, the country of the woman he loved. She in turned seemed interested in Bakeristan, and he knew that she would learn a great deal more than he could tell her if she became queen. His heart lurched painfully and it was If a lead weight rested upon him at the thought. He forced himself to not think too much of that, but just enjoy her company.

Finally, the princess said, somewhat impatiently, "Is it time yet for you to kiss me? It seems as if we have been talking for hours."

Sherlock chuckled because he could not help himself. She was utterly adorable. He checked the time once again and saw that a little more than an hour had passed.

Instead of leaning in to kiss her as they sat together, he pulled her to her feet so they were facing each other. He slid his arms around the princess's waist and bent his head to kiss her, even as her arms came about his neck to pull him down to her. He kissed her deeply, feeling her eager response, her parted lips that thrilled his senses. He loved her, dear God, how he loved her.

She moaned, pressing herself against him, and he shuddered with the desire he felt for her, at the sound. He wished he could just pick her up in his arms and carry her to her bedchamber, to properly express his love for her with his body. He kissed her until he had to pull the last vestiges of self control towards himself as he pulled his head back, breathing hard. Her chest rose and fell against his in the same manner.

"We have to stop now," he managed. "Need to...get our breathing under control." They stood together for several minutes more, until their breathing slowed and returned to a less agitated state.

Prince Sherlock went to the library door, unlocked it and looked out. Seeing nobody about he said, "Go now, my darling. I shall follow in a few minutes." He pressed one more gentle kiss to her lips and she left the library.

After waiting some minutes longer, he too departed for his bedchamber to get dressed for dinner and what he knew was to be a very difficult conversation with his brother.

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 **Author's note:** is this the couple's last hurrah? I hope you enjoyed the fact that I tried to show their attraction on an intellectual level as well as a physical one.

Any guesses for the future?


	19. A Royal Rebuke

Thanks VictorianLady79 for beta'ing.

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King Mycroft was feeling inordinately pleased with himself as he rode in the royal carriage back towards Holmes Castle.

He had prevented the uprising- by finding the subversive, Moriarty, who had been inciting his people to rebellion. The man had summarily been tried, found guilty and executed in short order, to set an example. King Mycroft was not by nature a cruel man, but sometimes it was necessary to mete out justice in a public manner to ensure the peace of the kingdom overall.

The king was feeling rather weary after being on the road for so long, and he was looking forward to a quiet dinner with his family. He supposed he was looking forward to having another look at the princess whom he was to marry. As for her stepfather, if he never saw him again it would be too soon. The way in which he had extorted such a vast sum of money as well as a trousseau for the princess's hand showed him to be greedy beyond comprehension.

The betrothal ball the following day would get things moving quickly, and hopefully the wedding could be arranged as soon as possible so the odious foreign prince would return to his own country.

The closer he got to the castle, the more anxious the king was to just get things over with. Now that the decision had been made for him to wed, he wanted to proceed with the act, get the woman with child to please his mother and return to his mistress of the past year, Lady Smallwood. As a widow, she made no demands on him, and was content to warm his bed at night whenever he felt the urge. She owned a cottage very near to the castle and he had spent many a night there, pretending he was an ordinary man with no royal duties to perform.

An outrider had been sent ahead to inform the servants of the castle of his impending arrival. When the king arrived, it was to find that everything had been made ready for his return. He arrived in time to dress for dinner, and his valet was waiting for him.

When Mycroft entered the dining hall, it was to find only his mother there.

"Mycroft! " she exclaimed. "How was your journey? Was everything settled to the north?"

The king nodded." Everything is settled Mother, and the the kingdom is safe. The traitor was dealt with. I am rather fatigued after the long journey, however."

The queen mother nodded sympathetically. "That is to be expected. I must tell you, Mycroft, your brother has something of import to discuss with you after dinner, so please do not head directly to your bedchamber."

"Very well, Mother. I expect he will wish to complain about the way I forced him to entertain the princess for the past several days."

"There is more to it than that," said the elderly woman enigmatically. He was about to ask what she meant when she exclaimed, "Ah Sherlock, there you are! Look, your brother has returned safe and sound."

"Mycroft," nodded his younger brother. "I must speak with you immediately after dinner."

"So Mother has informed me. I hope you are not going to spend an hour complaining about what a bore your week has been with the princess."

The prince would have replied, but at that moment the foreign prince stepped into the room, accompanied by the princess herself.

King Mycroft noticed the strained look upon her pretty face, although she was gowned in one of the elaborate creations that had obviously just been made as part of her trousseau. He hoped to God that Sherlock had not acted ungraciously towards her. She kept her gaze averted from the prince, and he decided that must be the case. Oh yes, he was going to have to rebuke his younger brother for his behaviour towards the princess, that was certain.

As the meal progressed, the king could feel the palpable tension in the air. He was not overly astute when it came to matters of sentiment, but something was clearly wrong. Sherlock would not look at him, the princess had said not a word, and that ridiculous foreign prince enthused non-stop about the horses in his stables. Even the queen mother seemed disinclined to speak.

Before the meal was ended, Princess Amelia stood. She was ashen-faced and the king was quite certain she was close to fainting. "Excuse me, Your Majesty," she said, speaking for the first time in her musical voice. "I am not feeling well. I think I shall retire early to bed."

King Mycroft noticed a glance pass between his brother and the princess, but was completely nonplussed at it. Had his brother somehow been the cause of her distress? It certainly seemed so. "I am sorry you are unwell, Princess Amelia," he informed her kindly. "Certainly you must get some rest so you are better before the ball tomorrow evening."

"Yes, your Majesty." She dropped a curtsy and left the room.

Prince Culverton was next to rise. "Your Majesty, I hope we might spend some time together this evening, discussing wedding arrangements."

Did the man have no shame thought the king. The betrothal was not even formally announced. "I think that can wait until after the ball, Prince Culverton," he responded, in a tone of rebuke.

"Of course, of course," said the older man hastily. "In that case, I might avail myself of the fine entertainments once again in the village."

Mycroft noticed a dark expression on his brother's face and wondered at the cause. Had the foreign prince been speaking precipitously in the village about the impending betrothal? He wouldn't at all be surprised. Culverton seemed like the type of man who would try to make sure his net was tightly wound about his prey - in this case, the king himself. Being father-in-law to the king would be a very influential position to hold.

For the first time, King Mycroft wondered whether his acceptance of the marriage terms had been a mistake. Would the foreign prince try to assert his own authority over his step-daughter and attempt to have her make demands of the king that would be of benefit to Bartonia?

Even as he thought these things, the foreign prince excused himself and left. The queen mother also rose. "I would speak with you, after you have finished speaking with your brother," she said to her older son. "I will be in the parlour. You and Sherlock can use the drawing room." She too departed and the two brothers sat staring at each other.

"Well, I suppose we should do as Mother suggested, and head there now," remarked Mycroft. In an effort to keep the atmosphere light on the way, he said, "I have been thinking of how to announce my betrothal tomorrow evening."

They entered the drawing room and he closed the door, pulling out a piece of paper he had been working on during the carriage ride back to the castle. Well, obviously he had been unable to write during the ride, but he had spent some time during lunch at a posting inn as he waited for the horses to be changed to a fresh team.

"What do you think of this, Sherlock?" he asked. "I thought, of thanking everyone for coming to the ball, and then to make the announcement in this way - 'The kingdoms Of Bakeristan and Bartonia have been allies for centuries, and it is time we forge a better alliance with our neighbours. Therefore it is with great pleasure that I am announcing the betrothal of Princess Amelia von Hooperstein of Bartonia and myself.'" He felt quite proud of what he had written. It would undoubtedly also please the foreign prince with the words of forging a better alliance. "Is it not an excellent speech, brother mine?" he asked, looking up from the paper to his brother.

To the king's astonishment, Sherlock was scowling.

"Sherlock, it is obvious from your behaviour tonight that there is some sort of issue between the princess and yourself. I could sense the tension. I am sorry if you did not like her. I hope at least you were not cruel to her, as she is to be my wife and your sister-in-law."

"I don't want her to be my sister-in-law!" ;burst out the prince with a note of passion in his voice.

"Sherlock, for the sake of the kingdom you must put these feelings of distaste aside. Your personal opinion is of no consequence. The wheels have been put in motion, and..." He was interrupted by his brother saying in a tone of, what was it - agony?

"You don't understand, Mycroft. I don't want her to be my sister-in-law, because I want her to be my...wife." He almost whispered the words.

Mycroft stared at his brother in absolute astonishment, trying to process his brother's words. If Sherlock hated the girl, why did he want to marry her? Was he trying to spare his older brother the necessity of taking her as a wife? He had expressed concern over the extortion Prince Culverton had demanded in return for the princess's hand.

"It is very kind of you to offer to take her off my hands," he said, "but I have made my peace with it. I suppose you have deduced that Prince Culverton will try and use his influence over his stepdaughter to control me. I assure you, I will not allow that to happen."

"For God's sake,Mycroft, that is not why I want her to be my wife, rather than yours!" exclaimed Sherlock, and the king looked at him, bemused. The next words out of his brother's mouth made his jaw drop open. "I want her to be my wife because I love her, dammit!"

King Mycroft blinked in surprise, even as he stared at his brother open-mouthed. The prince continued, "Yes Mycroft, the unthinkable has happened. I have fallen in love, and it is with the woman with whom you are to announce your betrothal tomorrow."

Mycroft tried to put his thoughts in order. He cast his thoughts back to the dinner, to the tense way in which Sherlock had been acting, to the way in which the princess had been so quiet. He recalled the glance that had passed between the princess and his brother before she had left the room, the one he had assumed was a reproachful one on her part. Then he remembered Sherlock had been the one to request a meeting after dinner.

"Sherlock," he said carefully. "You said you wished to speak to me after dinner. What did you want to talk about?"

"About Molly of course," grated the prince.

"Molly? Who is Molly?" King Mycroft was feeling discombobulated.

"Molly, the princess. She prefers to be called Molly."

"Oh, so you have spent enough time with her to learn she prefers to be called Molly?"

"Bloody hell, Mycroft. Are you not listening to me? How on earth do you think I would have fallen in love with her if I hadn't spent time with her?"

King Mycroft's thoughts were whirling. For once he wished his brain had a mind palace the way Sherlock's did. Sherlock had always had such an ordered mind, although his current state of being seemed to belie that fact. Slowly he said, "So, you spent time with the princess after all, and you imagine yourself to be in love with her?"

"I do not 'imagine' myself to be in love with her, Mycroft. I love her, truly, deeply, overwhelmingly." Mycroft had never heard such things come out of his brother's mouth before. It was truly remarkable to hear him speak this way, with such passion.

"And what of the princess? Does she share your sentiment?"

"Of course she does, Mycroft. Do you really think I would have told you if these emotions were one-sided? If she did not feel the same way, I would hardly be telling you this," responded the prince.

"And what do you wish me to do about this?" inquired the king.

"I don't know. Call off the betrothal? Allow me to marry her instead?"

"Oh, Sherlock. I am not unsympathetic to your plight. In fact, I am rather delighted that you have discovered you have a heart at last. But we cannot change the way things are. I have already accepted Prince Culverton's terms."

Mycroft could see how agitated Sherlock was, by the way his brother ran his hands through his dark curls. "Please, Mycroft. You are the king. Surely there is something you can do? If I can't be with her, I shall have to leave. I won't be able to watch you be with the only woman I will ever love."

"If it could happen once, surely it can happen again? Perhaps it is just infatuation."

"It is not infatuation," the prince said positively. "She is scientifically minded, as I am, even had her own laboratory in Bartonia. We connect on a much deeper level than the physical one."

King Mycroft sighed. "I do not know what to say. Perhaps if she herself were to break off the betrothal?"

Sherlock shook his head. "She won't do that. Her stepfather...well, he is an abusive man. I have seen the marks on her flesh where he has whipped her into submission. She has told me that he would vent his wrath on her mother if things did not go as planned."

Mycroft was shocked. What kind of beast was this man, if he could treat women so harshly? "It is an untenable situation Sherlock. Like I said, I am not unsympathetic to your plight, but I just cannot think on what can be done."

"It's over then," said the prince, and Mycroft could see tears shimmering in his brother's eyes. "I have gambled and lost. Would that I had just stolen her away and left you to deal with the consequences, but honour prevented me," he said brokenly. "Will you at least allow me to spend some time before the ball, so I may say goodbye to her? I will leave as soon as it is over, and you will never see me again." Tears were now falling down the prince's cheeks and Mycroft knew for the first time that his brother was indeed sincere in his protestations of love, that he was suffering, yet he was ready to sacrifice his own happiness for the sake of honour.

"I am sorry, brother mine," he said sombrely. "I will, of course allow you to say farewell to the princess before the ball." What else could he do? he thought. The marriage certificate had already been obtained, requiring only his signature and that of his bride to make it official, when the time came.

"Thank you," said the prince in a low voice, which clearly displayed his agony, before he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

King Mycroft remained for a few moments, lost in thought. How had things come to this? He had intended to rebuke his brother for his neglect of the princess, and had discovered instead that Sherlock and the princess were in love. It was a difficult burden to bear. He loved Sherlock and it would break his heart to lose him, but he understood the younger man's resolve to leave after the betrothal had been announced.

 ** _Well,_** he thought, ** _I suppose I had better go now and see what Mother wants of me._**

He left the drawing room and headed for the parlour.

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 **Author's note:** Did you enjoy reading this chapter from the king's POV? How did you find the conversation between the brothers?

I hope it moved you.

Any guesses on what will occur next?


	20. The Tears of Love

Thanks VictorianLady79 for beta'ing.

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Princess Molly was in her bedchamber, pacing the floor, wondering if Sherlock had spoken to his brother yet, or was still speaking to him. Kaitlyn had helped her into her nightgown and now she was waiting, anxious to discover what the king's answer had been to his brother's pleas.

She had looked at Sherlock beseechingly before leaving the dining hall, willing him without words to come to her as soon as he had news.

Half an hour passed and she was becoming agitated. What was taking so long? Another half hour passed. Molly was just about to go through the communicating door when she heard his voice, talking in low tones to his valet, presumably getting undressed for bed. She sat on the bed and waited.

When the handle to the communicating door opened she held her breath. This was it, the moment of truth. As Sherlock entered the room, his expression confirmed her worst fears. It had not gone well. She could see it in his eyes.

He walked straight to her and gathered her in his arms, whispering "I'm sorry Molly. I tried, and I failed."

Her eyes blurred with tears and she clung to him, realizing this would be the last time they would have together.

He pulled back from her and put his hands on either side of her face. Molly could see the sheen of tears in his eyes, even as hers ran down her face. "I need you to know, even if you must be with my brother and bear his children, it will not stop me from loving you. However, I will not be able to watch you become another man's wife." A tear escaped from his eyes, slowly making its way down his cheek.

Molly swallowed a sob. "You are going to leave?"

"I must. I have some distant cousins in England on my mother's side. I will go there to live the rest of my life, far from you. If I stayed, I would be tempted to take you away from this kingdom and make you mine. Believe me, I have considered it, but truth be told, I could not do that to Mycroft. The stability of Bakeristan rests upon him, and a scandal could cause irreparable damage."

"I understand, Sherlock, and I am...proud of you...for the man you are. You are a man of honour and integrity, and I am blessed to have known you, even if it means my heart will be broken for the rest of my life. Can we...can we just have this time? Will you kiss me?" She felt her heart breaking even as she said the words.

"Yes, my sweet love. Mycroft said I may say goodbye to you too. He is not unsympathetic, as he says. He simply cannot find a way out of this situation. Oh darling, I wish there was a way out of this, but if Mycroft cannot see one, I must face that fact that it doesn't exist."

"Lay beside me," she pleaded. "Let me feel your body against mine one more time, so I can...remember the feel of having you close."

He obliged, waiting until she moved closer to the centre of the bed, making room for him.

Then he took her in his arms and began to kiss her. She reached and put her hands up, running them through his wonderful ebony curls, memorizing the feel of the springy strands against her fingers. Even as he continued to kiss her desperately and she opened her mouth more, she tried to memorize the feel of his tongue as it touched hers, then the sensuous feel of his full lips.

She began to trace her hand along his face, feeling the sharp, defined cheekbones, aristocratic nose, his strong chin. She moved her hand downward, feeling the planes of his chest through the fabric of his night shirt. "Can I, can I feel your chest, without the nightshirt?" she pleaded as she moved her mouth away from his. She just wanted to have him closer.

"If you wish it, my love." He tugged his nightshirt over his head and suddenly, throwing caution to the winds, she did the same with her nightgown, so that the only article of clothing between them were her drawers. She gasped in shock, blushing and averted her eyes. She had not realized he would be naked beneath his nightshirt. He too seemed shocked at her own actions.

"Oh, God, Molly," he uttered, crushing her to him so their bare chests connected and she thrilled at it, luxuriating in the feel of his warm chest. He kissed her breathless, then she moved her hands to his shoulders and slid them down, pulling away from him so she could feel his chest, the muscles that defined it. He groaned as she touched him, and she could feel further down what she was doing to him, feeling the heat also within herself.

His mouth sought hers again and this time his hands moved also to touch her, caressing each breast with his hands, cupping them as they fit perfectly into his large palms, even as she whimpered. Her breath was coming quickly between her lips and she was so ready to give herself to him. She desperately wanted to feel him, to know what it was like when a man made love to a woman. With him it would be perfect. Then, even as she thought of King Mycroft touching her, kissing her and taking her to the marriage bed, she pulled away from the man she loved and began to weep. Great, heaving sobs wracked her body.

Prince Sherlock cradled the back of her head with one hand as he used the other arm to hold her body tightly against him, rocking her gently, whispering words of love.

"How can I...do it?" she sobbed despairingly. "How can I let him...touch me? I wish I had never met you. Then I would have had nothing to compare his touch to."

She felt the prince stiffen against her, pausing in his comfort. "Is that what you really wish?" he said in a voice so filled with pain it broke her heart anew.

"No, no. I didn't mean it. Of course I did not mean it. Better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all." She pressed kisses on his face, wanting him to know she was truly sorry for her words of a few moments earlier, that she didn't mean them, finally settling her lips against his once more, this time entering his mouth with her tongue, before kissing her way down his chest and his pectoral muscles.

He drew in a shuddering breath then and clasped her face.

"Enough Molly. We must stop, now."

She knew he had reached his breaking point and gave in, resting her head on his chest to feel his heart thundering in her ears, matching her own frantically beating one. "I love you, Sherlock," she said passionately, before resting her head against his chest. "Will you...stay with me, until I fall asleep? I just want to feel your arms around me one last time, to feel your body against mine."

He groaned. "You are torturing me, my love, but yes, it is what I want too. I will stay until you fall asleep."

Content at last, Molly allowed herself to drift off in the arms of the man she adored, even as she felt her heart break over what was to come.

When Princess Molly awoke, it was to find that the prince had gone. She had slept soundly, and had not felt his departure. She was however feeling extremely restless so she summoned Kaitlyn.

When her lady's maid came in, she said, "Kaitlyn, I wish to have breakfast in my room. I cannot bear to face the king."

"Oh, Molly,' said Kaitlyn, slipping naturally into her role as her friend, "Did things go badly? Was the prince not able to convince his brother to call off your betrothal?"

"No," responded the princess dully. "King Mycroft was sympathetic to our plight, as Sherlock said, but could not come up with a solution. It is no use. I shall wed the king, and Sherlock has decided to leave as soon as the ball has ended. He will go to England, to some relatives he has there, and spend the rest of his life...there." She could not help the sob that escaped her on the last word.

"Oh, Molly. I don't know what to say. Sorry seems so inadequate a word. I have seen for myself how devoted you and the prince are towards each other, and my heart aches for you."

"At least I was able to find love, even if it was only for a short time. I shall just have to pretend that he has died, and move on with my life."

"'You are so brave," said her lady's maid admiringly.

"Not brave," Molly shook her head, "merely resigned to what is to come."

Kaitlyn hugged the princess, then left the room to order that a meal be sent up.

"Do you wish to get dressed, Your Highness?" she inquired, upon her return.

"No, Kaitlyn. I shall stay here until the ball. I cannot bear to see anyone. I would not be able to control the hurt I am feeling, and people would surely sense it. I shall remain in my nightgown until it is time to dress for the ball."

The lady's maid gave a curtsey, then left the room.

Molly's sat at the mirror of her dressing table, looking at her reflection. She could see the circles under her eyes. Despite her good sleep, the past few days had been rather stressful, and it showed in her face and her eyes were still red-rimmed with the tears that persisted on falling whenever she thought about Sherlock. She also looked very pale. Well, that at least was something. People always thought being pale was fashionable, and added powder to their faces to give their skin a paler look. Her delicate skin was pale enough that it required no artifice.

She did resolve however, to look her best for the ball. If she was to be queen of Bakeristan, she must keep up appearances. Prince Culverton had told her in no uncertain terms during the journey to Bakeristan, that royal wives always kept up appearances, looking happy, no matter what the circumstances. She could be dying of consumption and she would still be required to look as if she had not a care in the world.

The day passed agonizingly slowly as the hour of the ball approached. Molly's luncheon, which had been sent upstairs was left untouched, and she had only managed a few mouthfuls of the breakfast that had been brought up earlier. She had no appetite, being much too apprehensive about the evening ahead.

The ball was due to start at eight, and Kaitlyn came upstairs two hours early, in order to get her ready. The princess had heard movement from the chamber next door several times, but he had not come to see her, and being attuned to him as she was, Molly knew that he too was suffering, but was at least trying to put on a brave face in front of his brother, mother and the elderly prince, for appearance's sake.

Kaitlyn carefully applied some makeup to conceal the circles under her eyes, then applied a small amount of rouge to Molly's cheeks, followed by a little lip salve.

Then she dressed the princess's hair fashionably, pulling it into a French chignon, which had several tendrils of hair outside of it and curled it.

Finally it was time to put on the opulent gown.

When Princess Molly put the gown on she thought once again that it looked as if it had been made for a bride, despite the silver of the bodice. Despite her misery, Princess Molly knew she had never looked more beautiful. She was expected to help greet the guests, along with her step-father and the Holmes royal family, so she was required downstairs at least fifteen minutes before the ball was due to begin.

Thus, at seven forty, with her head held high, despite the fact that she felt as if she were going to the guillotine, Princess Molly descended the stairs and made her way to the ballroom entrance. She was the last to arrive, and her breath caught immediately at the sight of the man she loved. Despite the fact that the King's regalia was much more elaborate, Prince Sherlock looked resplendent and elegant, deep purple coloured tailcoat with gold trim around the edges. It was much like the coat he had worn a few days earlier in the library. His hair hung over his face unfashionably and he eschewed pulling his hair back into the pony tale that was so common to aristocrats. Instead his hair fell in its natural waves and he looked utterly magnificent, so much so, that she only realized she had stopped breathing, when her lungs suddenly protested the lack of air, and she was forced to take a deep breath.

The five of them stood in a line, waiting to greet the guests, in order of their importance. Prince Culverton was to be greeted first, followed by the princess, the young prince, the queen mother and finally, King Mycroft himself.

Even as she positioned herself between the two princes, she felt Sherlock dip his head slightly to whisper into her ear so softly that nobody else could possibly hear. "You look breathtaking, my darling."

She allowed herself a faint smile, touching his hand for a moment with hers, then plastered on a bigger, fake one as the guests started to arrive. The hour had come.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I know, I am prolonging the angst and torture. Once again, the poor prince was tested to his limits. Do you think it would be harder for Sherlock or Molly to deal with her marrying the king?

I have a picture of the ballgown which I will post on tumblr if you want a visual of it.


	21. A Prince is Saved

Thanks VictorianLady79 for beta'ing.

* * *

Prince Sherlock disengaged himself from the woman he loved, drifting his hands once more over the sweet curves of her breasts. They were so perfect, and were meant for him, yet he would never have the opportunity to touch them again.

With a heavy heart he picked up His nightshirt and put it back on, then padded softly to the communicating door and went into his own bedchamber.

He got into the large bed and tried to sleep. It took a long time, but eventually, exhausted, he did.

He was awoken by the curtains being pulled back from the window. "You must rise, Your Highness," Wiggins told him. Breakfast will be served soon and you know how the king is. He is a stickler for punctuality."

The prince nodded. "Has the princess already gone downstairs?"

"No, Your Highness, she has chosen to break her fast in her bedchamber."

Sherlock was disappointed but he knew what she was doing. She was removing herself from his purview, so he would not slip up and reveal his feelings for her, nor she for him.

After getting dressed, he went hurriedly down the staircase and entered the breakfast room. He was the last to arrive, save the princess, of course.

"Mycroft," he greeted the king, inclining his head. "My valet informed me the princess is to remain in her bedchamber this morning."

"Thank you for letting me know, brother mine," the king inclined his head in the same manner. "Let us wait no longer then to eat."

Footmen began to bring in dishes as Prince Culverton said, rubbing his hands with glee, "Well I, for one, am very much looking forward to the ball tonight. I will be very happy to have dear Amelia settled at last."

 ** _I bet you will,_** thought Sherlock, unable to help the slight scowl that crossed his face, before he quickly composed it once again. **_I suppose you will find someone else on whom to vent_** **_your wrath once she is out of reach._**

He despised the man.

Talk ensued about the ball. The queen mother rhapsodized about the food that was to be served. It would certainly be a night to remember,thought the young prince dully.

"The menu sounds delightful, Mother," approved the king.

"I helped her with it too," boasted Prince Culverton.

"Yes, yes, very nice."

As they reached the end of the meal, King Mycroft said, "Prince Culverton, I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to the stables. I fancy you might like to have the gift of two of my horses to be added to the marriage agreement."

"Indeed, Your Majesty. That would be most generous of you."

Sherlock let the conversation drift around him. Fortunately, nobody asked him anything directly. He might have been unable to prevent himself from acting rudely.

After breakfast, Prince Sherlock went to the library. Instead of reading though, he sat unseeing, his mind blank for some time. After awhile he supposed he should write a missive to his relatives in England, so it could be sent ahead, and they would be prepared for his arrival. Yes, that was a good idea.

He walked slowly to his bedchamber, and sat at his writing desk. He was so tempted to open the communicating door because he knew the princess was in there, but he dared not. He had almost succumbed to passion the previous night and he was feeling extremely weak. If he saw her, he was not certain he would be able to prevent himself from making love to her.

So he sat at his writing desk and wrote a letter to his mother's cousin, The Duke Of Norbury. He knew his English relatives would be gracious to him. Fortunately, they had all viewed the marriage of his mother to the King of Bakeristan to be a big feather in their caps, which they could boast about in all the best salons in London.

Upon completion of the letter, he set it on his desk, with the intention of taking it downstairs at luncheon time. Then he lay on his bed, thinking about the emptiness his future would be without the woman he loved. Again, he had to restrain himself from going to her. He wondered if she would be downstairs for luncheon.

When Wiggins came to help him dress in his attire for the meal, Prince Sherlock had his answer. "It seems the princess has decided to remain in her room for luncheon as well today," remarked his valet.

Sherlock couldn't help feeling disappointed again. He had hoped to at least have time to say goodbye to her properly before the ball, to perhaps steal off somewhere so they could be alone, but apparently it was not to be. He would have to content himself with the memories of her soft half-naked body nestled beside his own completely naked one. That was something, he supposed. At least he would be able to take the memory with him of the sweet curves of her breasts and the way they had felt in his hands.

When he went down to luncheon, he was only preceded by his mother.

"I wonder if the princess will be coming down for luncheon," she mused aloud to him.

Sherlock shook his head. "Wiggins says she is remaining in her room." He could not help the note of agony in his voice, and his mother gently touched his arm. "Do not be perturbed, my son. All may yet be well."

He appreciated his mother's words of kindness, even if he didn't believe them. Then he remembered the letter.

"Oh!" he expostulated in an annoyed tone. "I forgot to bring down the letter I wrote to your cousin, advising him of my plans to live in London."

"Why don't you get it, dear. Give it to me and I will make sure it is sent off in a timely manner. I'd like to add my own to the duke, it has been an age since we have corresponded."

"Alright, Mother."

He hurried upstairs to fetch the letter, passing the King and Prince Culverton on the way, who were descending them.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" questioned his brother.

"I just have an important letter for Mother to send off. She wishes to add her own note." He gave his brother a meaningful glance as he spoke, and knew Mycroft understood it to be the letter to his relatives.

After taking the letter from the writing desk, he returned to the dining hall and gave it to his Mother. Footmen were already in attendance and luncheon was soon underway.

From what the young prince could tell, the visiting prince was very excited to have been gifted three horses from the castle stables. He kept thanking Mycroft and enthusing about starting his own breeding program in Bartonia with such fine horseflesh. Apparently Mycroft had gifted him with a prized stallion and mare who had already two outstanding foals. There was a third horse too, which was one of King Mycroft's racing horses. Sherlock didn't really understand why Mycroft was adding to the marriage settlement, but concluded it was none of his business.

Following the luncheon, Sherlock spent some time in the music room, playing mournful pieces of music in minor keys, using them as an outlet for his own sadness. He returned to his room only when his fingers were sore from so much playing, and by then it was time to dress for the ball. Due to the fact that there was to be such a large amount of food at the ball, there was no dinner beforehand.

Wiggins helped Sherlock dress in his best ensemble, with its gold trim around the cuffs and edges of the coat. He looked in the mirror and was satisfied, although he noted his eyes seemed rather dull and lifeless. His blue-green eyes seemed darker than usual.

When he descended the stairs to take his position to greet the guests, he saw that the princess was not yet there. He stood where he was supposed to, next to his mother.

Five minutes later the most beautiful vision of loveliness he had ever seen came into view. Princess Molly's hair was down, styled in intricate ringlets that curled around her face. Her gown had a silver bodice and pure white skirt. She looked almost - bridal.

When she stood beside him, he could not help but whisper softly to this petite woman he adored, "You look breathtaking my darling," and was rewarded by the ghost of a smile and a brush of her hand against his.

Then he faced forward to greet the guests as they began to arrive.

The five of them stood for almost forty-five minutes as guests trickled in, until finally King Mycroft determined that the last had arrived.

"Some champagne for all of us, I think," he said, motioning for a footman. "Five glasses of champagne," he told the man.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock noticed his brother hand something to the footman and make further instructions in a low voice.

The small royal assembly made their way to a raised dais which had been set up for them, as music started to play from the minstrel's gallery.

The champagne was dutifully brought, and once again, the young prince observed his brother talking in a low voice to the footman. Then the king insisted on handing each of them a glass.

"To a successful betrothal ball," he announced, raising his glass, and obediently they all sipped their champagne.

They sat in the same order as they had been standing, so Sherlock was next to Molly. He glanced at her. She had only taken one sip, but beyond her, he could see Prince Culverton enjoying the fine champagne so much, he was finished with his almost immediately.

Sherlock could see the strained expression on the princess's face, even as he felt it must be on his own.

He knew the betrothal announcement would have to come before too much of the evening had passed, so people were not too inebriated from the fine wines and champagne they were drinking.

It was another half an hour, however, before Mycroft signaled the conductor in the minstrel's gallery to cease playing.

It was time for the announcement and Sherlock felt his heart sink, even as he glanced at Molly, whose expression remained impassive. He could see by her small hands clenched in her lap that she was agitated, however. Beyond her, he noticed Prince Culverton and though it was decidedly odd the man seemed very weary. In fact, it appeared he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Had he been up late the previous evening in the village so that he had gotten very little sleep and was now greatly fatigued? His attention was diverted as his brother stood, making his way to stand in the center of the dais, directly in front of Sherlock.

"Welcome to all," announced the king. "I am gratified to see so many of you here on short notice. Apparently my Mother's invitation to attend the betrothal ball of her son has caused enough curiosity that you laid aside other plans to make time for this ball."

There was a general titter of amusement.

Then King Mycroft continued, even as Prince Sherlock heard a snore to his left, and saw that Culverton Smith, the old fool, had fallen asleep. Serves him right, he thought somewhat maliciously, to miss the announcement of his stepdaughter's betrothal to the king. He forced himself to pay attention to the next words, even as he dreaded them. He felt Molly stiffening beside him, in apprehensive anticipation as well.

"As you know, the kingdoms Of Bakeristan and Bartonia have been allies for centuries, and it is time we forged a better alliance with our neighbours."

Prince Sherlock thought idly that his brother had done well to memorize his speech so perfectly.

"Therefore it is with great pleasure that I announce the betrothal of Princess Amelia von Hooperstein of Bartonia," here, the king turned towards Molly and held out his hand towards her. She stood slowly and hesitatingly put her hand into his, and he drew her forward to face the crowd of onlookers, then prepared to finish his sentence, even as Sherlock saw her visibly trembling.

Sherlock's heart plummeted and he closed his eyes in agony as he waited for the dreaded words.

"And my...brother." Sherlock eyes snapped open and he blinked in surprise. **_What had Mycroft said? Had he heard it right?_**

The crowd began to murmur, and finally he heard a smattering of applause, Mycroft turned to him and said with a smile, "Well, brother mine, aren't you going to stand and take your betrothed's hand?"

Slightly dazed, Sherlock stood and walked forward, taking Molly's hand and kissing it automatically even as the applause turned into cheering and shouts of "Congratulations" and "well done."

But the young prince had eyes only for the woman standing next to him who was giving him such a dazzling smile it almost stopped his heart.

Because he couldn't help himself, despite the crowd, he bent his head and kissed her in front of everybody, propriety be damned. He felt as if he had just been saved from the gallows by the smallest of margins.

There were a few more cheers and some alarmed explanations from the shocked dowagers in the room, before Sherlock lifted his head and said, "I love you, my darling."

"As I love you." Her expression was transformed into that of a young girl in love and he found it difficult to look away, but he needed to ask his brother for an explanation.

He turned to Mycroft, and saw his mother sitting, with a very satisfied expression on her face.

"Mycroft, How...how were you able to accomplish this? Last night you led me to believe there was no hope. I had resigned myself to leaving as soon as possible for England. I even gave a letter to Mother to inform them of my impending arrival."

"Which of course I did not have sent off," replied his mother smugly. "I did try to tell you that all may yet be well, my son, if you recall."

Molly had moved to stand beside him, and slipped her hand into his.

"But how?" asked Sherlock again, still unable to process the information that he was really, truly going to have Molly for himself after all.

"It was Mother who gave me the idea," explained the King.

"Yes, when he came to me last night, I told the idiot boy to look at the marriage contract and change it. I had never specified in the invitation which son was to be betrothed, so that was fortuitous."

"Let me show you the old and new marriage agreement and you will understand. Let us take a brief recess from the ballroom and retire to my bedchamber. Mother, can you take care of things during my absence?"

"Myc, have I not been organizing balls and entertainments since before you were born?"

"Mycroft is the name you gave me, if you could possibly struggle all the way to the end," said the king haughtily to his mother. Then his tone softened as he added, "Yes mother, and I am truly grateful you also found a way out of this dilemma."

Nodding at Molly, he said, "You had better come as well, princess. We have urgent business to discuss."

The three of them walked past the still sleeping foreign prince who was now snoring open-mouthed. **_Take that, you odious wretch,_** thought Sherlock triumphantly as he and Molly walked hand-in-hand from the ballroom, following the king.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I'm sure you knew things would turn out alright at the ball. Many of you guessed the queen would have a hand in aiding the prince and princess, so great job!

How did you find the king's speech? I had the little change to "my brother" at the end planned weeks before I actually wrote it.

I hope you were moved by the angst before and the joy afterwards. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Did you catch the canon snippet?

There's tumblr challenge for people to copy and paste their favourite line into a review about the chapter. I'd love to see your favourite line!


	22. The Royal Pledge

Thanks VictorianLady79 for beta'ing.

* * *

Following his singularly unsatisfactory conversation with Sherlock, King Mycroft headed to the parlour for what he assumed was to be more of the same from his mother.

He felt bad for Sherlock, in fact he felt terrible. He had never seen his brother like that, the desperation in his eyes. But he simply could not find a solution to the prince's dilemma. He would have been quite happy to have the betrothal broken by her, but he simply could not be the one to do it. A great deal of money had already passed hands, a wedding agreement had been made and signed between himself and Prince Culverton, and the betrothal ball was coming up the following day.

Feeling a sense of trepidation, he opened the door to the parlour, to find his mother sitting in one of the winged armchairs. There was a fierce look in her eyes and he had a bad feeling she was not going to like it that he could not come up with a solution for his brother's dilemma.

Without preamble, she said, "I suppose you have told your brother there is no hope?"

Mycroft cringed. His mother was a formidable presence indeed when one of her children was in trouble, and this time her wrath was to be expended upon himself, because he could not help her other son, whom he had always suspected to be the favourite. "What am I supposed to do, Mother? The marriage agreement has been signed, the license procured, the ball set."

"Heaven help me for having such an idiot for a son! Is the license already filled out with yours and the princess's names?"

"Well, no but.."

"Why can it not be in the names of your brother and the princess instead?"

King Mycroft thought this over. He supposed that could be done, but that was not the only problem. "I suppose so, but there is the matter of you announcing to all in the invitation that I was to wed, with your betrothal ball invitation."

The queen mother gave him a smug smile. "I never specified the betrothal ball was for you. I said it was for my son. If people were to erroneously assume it was you, that is their business."

"But the marriage agreement, Mother. It has already been signed by Prince Culverton and myself, and witnessed by my lawyer. I am pledged to marry the princess."

"Change the damned agreement."

The king looked at his mother in astonishment, he had rarely heard her use such a term, and then only when she was in the most of vile of moods because he or Sherlock had done something shameful, at least in her eyes.

"But, Mother," He expostulated, unable to see what she meant.

"Myc," she said in a deceptively soft voice, with a hint of steel beneath, "show me the contract."

"It is in my bedchamber, under lock and key."

"Well, what are you waiting for, idiot boy? Go and get it!" Her tone was peremptory and the king left the parlour meekly, returning a short time later with the contract.

He thrust it at the queen mother, "See for yourself," he pointed at the top of the document which read "A marriage contract between the royal houses of Bakeristan and Bartonia."

On the line below in smaller print were the words "King Mycroft Holmes and princess Amelia von Hooperstein."

Listed below that were the terms of the marriage agreement, the trousseau and the exorbitant sum of money demanded by the foreign prince.

At the bottom were the signatures of the king, the prince and King Mycroft's lawyer.

"I have an idea son, if you will but listen. I have been with the foreign prince this week and have discovered he has an obsession for horseflesh, both in racing and in breeding stock."

"Go on," said the king, suddenly feeling he knew what his mother was going to say next.

"How much is your freedom worth to you, Myc? Is it worth the loss of a superb pair of breeding animals and one of your best racehorses?"

"I would do anything to escape this situation, Mother, you know that. I love my brother, but don't tell him that. I abhor sentiment above all things. I do not wish him to leave. And how could I take for a wife a woman who loves another, especially when it is my own brother?"

"Then this is what you must do at once, tonight. Have your lawyer prepare a new contract, identical to the first. Omit the names below the line saying it is a marriage between our two royal houses. If God is kind, Culverton Smith will be too delighted at the prospect of three horses added to the agreement to notice the absence of the pledge between you and the princess. Distract him if you must. Hold your arm over the area where the names would be. That pompous man is so greedy, he will be delighted you are offering him more, and will not think of anything else, if I am not mistaken. Once the marriage agreement is signed, he will have no recourse but to return home, bested by us." She gave a rather malicious laugh.

"Mother, " he said admiringly, "you are a genius."

"Of course I am. If this works, my son, you shall have the added benefit of me no longer plaguing you to find a wife. Sherlock can have many heirs in your stead who will inherit the kingdom once you are gone. From what I have seen in the past few days, he is most anxious to do so." This time, her laugh was one of delight.

Definitely the favorite, thought the king somewhat sourly, but what did it matter if he was to be spared the necessity of taking a wife?

"If this works, how shall we deal with the prince at the ball? He is certain to cause a scene."

"Oh, do use your superior brain once in awhile, Myc. Simply slip a sleeping draught into his champagne after we greet our guests."

"That could work," responded the king slowly. "But when he awakens, and finds out, what is to stop him from seeking legal action to honour the initial agreement?"

The queen mother thought for a moment. Then she said, "We must make certain that Sherlock and the princess are married tonight, after the ball. Once they are legally wed and have consummated their union, Prince Culverton will have no legal recourse. As you are the one who signs the marriage licence, you are also the only one who can deem it invalid."

The king nodded thoughtfully. "Then that is what we must do. From the way my brother spoke, I do not believe he will offer any objection to marrying the princess immediately. I still find it hard to believe he, of all people has fallen in love."

"I knew he had a heart. He just needed to find the right woman to give it to. You do not understand him as I do, Mycroft. Your brother has the soul of a poet. If you truly listen to him when he plays his violin, you can hear it. He has always had a deep capacity for love, but I believe that when your younger sister showed her insanity, he feared the same would happen to him, and locked away his emotions. It seems however, the dear princess found the key. I can assure you Mycroft, she is devoted to him. I could not imagine a better woman for him. She is his intellectual equal as well."

"Should we tell them of our plan this evening?"

"No, my son. If they knew of the plan, I am certain they would betray themselves by revealing their love. It is not certain either that we shall succeed. Better that we allow them a night of suffering, difficult though it may be, in order to offer them a chance at happiness."

King Mycroft could not fault his mother's logic.

The following day after breakfast, the king took the foreign prince to the stables and offered to have another marriage settlement contract drawn up, and to add the three prized animals as a show of good faith. The king's lawyer, who had worked hard to make sure all was done per the king's instructions presented the contract, casually leaning over the paper in order to show Prince Culverton where to affix his signature. The greedy man had not even bothered to look beyond the mention of the three horses, but had signed without a qualm. King Mycroft had followed with his signature, and then the lawyer had signed and the new contract was official.

After luncheon, the king had gone to see the vicar who did Sunday service in the chapel, to solicit him for midnight that evening, to perform the wedding, swearing the elderly man to secrecy. The marriage certificate was duly made out with the names of Sherlock instead of his own, and the princess, then signed by the king himself as the governing authority.

Once the ball started, the king successfully enlisted the help of a trusted footman to add a sleeping draught to the foreign prince's champagne, that would keep him asleep until morning. Apparently the man had been enjoying the delights of the village inn for most of the previous night, so it was not inconceivable that he would have fallen asleep uncommonly early.

The king was very pleased with himself when he made the announcement. He had seen the transformation in the faces of his brother and the princess, and it had warmed his usually cold heart. Mycroft was not a demonstrative man but he, like anyone else, possessed a heart and was secretly glad he had in the end been able to deliver the welcome news.

And then it was time to show them the marriage agreement, explain how it had been accomplished, and also inform the couple of their impending nuptials.

King Mycroft smiled as he led the happy couple to his bedchamber.

* * *

 **Author's note:** What did you think of the way the queen had all her "ducks in a row?" I hope I didn't make any obvious errors in setting things up.

Did you enjoy the Mycroft POV and talk with his mother? My head canon tells me Mummy Holmes favours Sherlock (TFP showed that to me). I think she felt guilt over the man Sherlock became after he forgot about Eurus, so I incorporated that favouritism into this story. Feel free to say you disagree. Everyone has their own ideas, just as valid as mine.

Are you excited at the thought of Sherlock and Molly getting married immediately?


	23. From Hell to Heaven

**Thanks VictorianLady79 for beta'ing.**

 **Sorry to not get this up earlier today. I had an opera performance and then a daughter with the flu, so rather busy day. I hope this was worth the wait.**

* * *

As Princess Molly walked towards the king's bedchamber, with her hand in that of the prince, she found it hard to believe this was really happening.

Once they had all been seated and the ball had officially begun she had retreated into a hell of her own knowing that all was lost, that Sherlock was leaving after the ball, and she would never see him again.

When King Mycroft had taken her hand and drawn her forward, her heart had pounded with fear and misery until he had said the words, "my brother."

At that moment she had felt as if she was transported from Hell to Heaven as she knew that somehow, miraculously, she and the prince were saved.

She looked up at the prince now to find him looking at her even as they walked, his feet automatically following his brother's in much the same way he had done that first day. This time however, his eyes were shining with undisguised love and devotion and he squeezed her hand.

They reached the king's bedchamber and were ushered inside.

The king took out the key and unlocked his safe, taking out the marriage agreement, which he showed to the prince and princess.

Then he explained everything he and his mother had planned between them.

Sherlock and Molly looked at Mycroft in amazement, marveling at the way things had gone so perfectly.

Then came some unexpected words.

"There is one thing of importance we must still discuss," said the king.

"And what might that be?" inquired the prince.

"I am sure you understand that once Prince Culverton awakens from his slumber, he will be furious. I am certain he will question the legality of the agreement and seek legal counsel of his own. Therefore the only way we can circumvent him is that you should be married as soon as possible."

"How soon?"

"Tonight, at midnight, in the private chapel. The vicar is ready to conduct the marriage service."

The prince and princess stared at King Mycroft in astonishment. Then Sherlock said, in a voice which held a note of disbelief, "How is that possible? We have no marriage licence."

"As it happens, I had already procured one, but the names were not yet added to the document. Of course, my royal seal and signature will make it official and binding. There will be no possible recourse for your marriage to be dissolved."

"I can't believe it," said Molly in a voice of wonder. "Can this really be true?" She was looking at Sherlock as she saw the same look of wonder in his eyes.

"I assure you, princess, it is indeed true. Sherlock, I am sure you will have your best friend, John act as best man and witness."

"Your Majesty, may I ask my lady's maid, Kaitlyn to be my maid of honour? She is also my best friend, and I can trust her."

The king nodded gravely. "I can send word to the servants' quarters for her to be in your bedchamber at eleven-thirty so you can make final preparations. I believe my mother has some family veil she wishes for you to use. According to Mother, it will bring you good luck." The King rolled his eyes at his mother's apparent foolishness. "I am afraid I cannot attend your nuptials, my prolonged absence from the ball would be noticed. Mother will come, of course, but she will return to the ball afterwards. As for the two of you, I shall make your excuses for you to the guests, and you may retire to your bedchamber after the ceremony."

Molly blushed, knowing what the king meant, but Sherlock merely gave a carefree smile to his brother. "Thank you, Mycroft. I am in your debt."

"You can thank me by producing many heirs for the kingdom." Molly blushed again. "We must return to the ballroom before people miss us. I must also arrange for Prince Culverton to be carried to his bedchamber. I am sure you would like a few minutes alone. Please do not linger too long, however. You will have all night after you are wed to be together."

With that, the king returned the marriage contract to his safe, locked it and departed.

Sherlock and Molly were left alone. They stared at each other for several seconds, and then with an exclamation of joy, Molly threw her arms about the man she loved. His arms came around her and his lips descended on hers. Their kiss reflected the joy they felt at having overcome all the obstacles to be together, all the longing they had for each other.

Sherlock finally lifted his head to say, "oh my darling, my Molly, dare I believe this? Am I dreaming?'

"If you are dreaming, that is also what I am doing, and I never wish to wake up."

"I would kiss you again, but Mycroft is right. We must get back to the ballroom and besides, we will have all night to be together after we are married." The look that he gave her was very expressive and Molly felt herself thrill at the passion she saw in his eyes.

They left Mycroft's bedchamber and returned to the ballroom.

By the time they arrived Prince Culverton had already been taken away, ostensibly to sleep off the dissipation of the night before. Sherlock took Molly's hand again, and they went in search of John and his wife Mary.

As soon as the prince found his friend he took him aside and talked with him in a low voice, while Mary engaged the princess in conversation. "Oh, princess, I am so happy for you and Sherlock. John told me about your situation, and my heart ached for you, but now it has all come good."

"Sherlock is asking John to be his best man and witness for our wedding."

"I know John will be delighted. Have you already determined a date for your nuptials?"

"There are reasons we must not delay. It is to be at midnight tonight," confided the princess.

"Tonight?" gasped Mary. "Would you mind if I attended? I consider Sherlock a friend too, since he was John's best man at our own wedding. Before you came along, I think I may have been the only woman he would talk to, and that was because I was his best friend's wife."

"Of course you may come. John knows where the chapel is, so you can come together shortly before midnight."

The doctor's wife nodded and smiled, as Sherlock returned to Molly with John and said, "It is all arranged."

"Mary is coming too," Molly told him, and she could see the prince was pleased.

The rest of the evening passed in somewhat of a blur to Molly. She and Sherlock were congratulated by guests as they moved through the throng, always together. They ate some of the sumptuous food that had been provided for the ball, although Molly was too excited to eat much of anything.

When the inevitable waltz began, Sherlock took his betrothed onto the dance floor and they began the waltz, then were joined by others. Princess Molly's heart continued to beat at an accelerated rate. Every time she looked into the eyes of the man she loved, she saw her excitement mirrored in his. It was impossible to believe that only a couple hours ago she had been miserable and now she was radiant, anticipating the thought of marrying the man she loved tonight.

After the waltz, the queen mother came up to them and said in a low voice. "I have arranged the family veil for you to wear, Princess Amelia. It will be in your bedchamber for you." Then she hugged the princess. "I am so happy my son found someone to love. You will be a good wife for him."

Molly's eyes shimmered with tears as she responded, "I will do my best. Thank you for helping us, for making it possible for us to be together. I prayed, but I lost faith that we could be together."

"One must not underestimate the power of prayer, my dear. I am very glad in this case, I was able to provide the answer to your prayers." She turned to her younger son. "You would do well to take heed of your future wife's beliefs. It was truly a miracle from God that things have fallen into place."

"I know, Mother," agreed the prince. "I know how foolish I have been in believing only in myself. Now I understand this was indeed the hand of God. Only God could have created a woman who is as perfect for me as Molly is."

Molly blushed at his words, but felt exceedingly glad at the sentiment.

Finally it came time for the princess to head upstairs and get ready. Sherlock, who had not moved from her side all evening, kissed her on the cheek and said softly into her ear, "I shall see you soon at the altar, my love."

When The princess arrived in her bedchamber, Kaitlyn was there and almost as excited as she was herself.

"Oh Molly, I can't believe it! This is so wonderful. I am so happy for you." She hugged the princess impulsively.

Then it was time to arrange the veil onto Molly's hair along with the Holmes family tiara. The queen mother had also left a surprise gift, a diamond necklace for the princess to wear. Kaitlyn did not put the veil over Molly's face, as they needed to walk to the chapel.

They made their way down side stairs and slipped outside through the side garden entrance, unseen by the guests at the ball. The garden path was dimly lit and as they walked, Molly found the thornless roses, picking one to hold.

After what seemed an interminable walk, the pair arrived at the chapel. The queen mother was already there, and the chapel was lit with candles. "Everything is ready for you, my dear," she told Princess Molly. "I am going to sit down now, and you may walk down the aisle when you are ready. I am sorry there is no music."

"I will go and sit now too," said Kaitlyn, and she followed the older woman into the depths of the chapel.

Molly counted to thirty to allow the women to be seated and then she entered the foyer, readied herself with her rose, pulling the veil over her face, and began the walk down the aisle.

She didn't need music, for it seemed as if the angels were singing as she made her way towards the man she loved. Even through her veil, she saw him facing her as she walked towards him, and her heartbeat quickened once again when she saw the smile on his face. This was really happening. They were getting married! A thrill ran through Molly as she finally stood at the altar in front of the vicar who was to marry them.

* * *

 **Author's note:** At last, it is about to happen! Will the wedding proceed uneventfully? What is in store for the prince and princess?

Note to my readers. I will be publishing a T-rated version of some chapters for my more sensitive readers. The T-rated version will have (T) after the title. The same chapter will therefore be published twice, at the same time, so you can choose the one you prefer to read. I've decided to do it this way, rather than re-publish the entire work which is mostly T-rated anyway.


	24. Love is Innocent - T rated

**Thanks VictorianLady79 for beta'ing.**

 **This T-rated version is especially for those readers who prefer the romance without the more intimate details. The M version will be published right after it. Choose the level of detail you prefer. I aim to please!**

* * *

Prince Sherlock could not stop smiling as he watched his bride walk towards him. Although he could not see her face properly due to the veil, he knew she was feeling exactly as he was. He felt as if angels were singing as Molly drew closer. Then her hand was in his, trembling slightly with the excitement he knew she was feeling and together they faced the vicar for the marriage service. John stood beside Sherlock, while Kaitlyn stood to the left of the princess.

In the front pew sat the queen mother and John's wife, Mary. Nobody else was present and the prince was completely content with that. He had never cared for state occasions and balls where he was required to make small talk to visiting dignitaries.

As the vicar went through the marriage service, Prince Sherlock could not take his eyes off the woman he loved. He squeezed her hand reassuringly when her small hand quivered in his.

They repeated their vows after the vicar, the Prince first in his deep voice, followed by the princess in her musical one.

The exchange of rings was made, Mycroft having already had the rings ready in advance. There was no engagement ring for the princess yet, but the queen mother had informed Sherlock that there were several heirloom engagement rings he could choose from stored in the family's vault.

As soon as the vicar pronounced them husband and wife, Prince Sherlock lifted the veil and pressed his lips to his new wife's. Her lips, as always, were so soft and inviting that he found himself extending the kiss well beyond what was usually the protocol. He was only brought back to reality by the vicar's polite cough, at which the queen mother said rather loudly, "It's about time my son enjoyed a decent kiss, and I am glad to see he knows how to do it properly."

As Sherlock's face reddened, the little group, including his new wife, chuckled.

Then it was time to sign the marriage register to make their union legally binding, after which the ensemble gathered around the newly married couple.

John slapped his best friend on the back. "Well you did it, my friend. I can scarce believe you've actually taken the plunge after telling me so often the folly of romantic entanglements."

"I had not yet met Molly, but she has shown me the error of my ways."

Sherlock's mother kissed her son on his cheek and said, "I am so happy for you my son. Now go and make me some grandchildren to spoil in my old age."

At that, both the prince and princess, who had been getting hugs of congratulation from the women, blushed.

Sherlock could feel his heartbeat accelerate at the thought that soon he would be in bed, making love to his wife.

The best part about having a wedding with so few people, reflected the prince a few minutes later, was that they did not need to linger. The others, save Kaitlyn, were returning to the ball.

Sherlock and Molly made their way along the garden path towards the castle. Due to the lateness of the hour there was nobody in the gardens anymore, although the terrace doors had been open earlier. The couple slipped in through the side door and made their way up a side staircase until they reached the end of the west wing, on the opposite side to where they usually traversed the corridor.

The prince opened the door to the bedchamber Molly was using to find a fire was lit casting a glow about the room, and two candles, one on each side of the bed, were also lit.

The glow from the fire meant Sherlock could clearly see the expression on his wife's face as he turned towards her.

"'We are really married, Sherlock," she said, and there was a note of rapture in her voice.

"Yes my darling, we are" he responded "and now I can make you mine as you were meant to be from the beginning of time."

He took the princess in his arms and began to kiss her, demandingly and passionately, eliciting her ardent response. He could feel the way her body responded to him, how soft she was, how yielding and it thrilled him to know that they had been given this chance at happiness.

He kissed her until it seemed as if the world spun dizzily around them, and their hearts were both pounding. His hands drew off her veil and tiara, which he laid on the dressing table chair. The prince's hands found the tiny buttons that fastened the back of her beautiful ball gown that had turned out to be her wedding gown. He worked to unfasten them, but had difficulty doing it without seeing them.

"Turn around, my love, that I may finish unfastening your gown."

The princess turned around and Sherlock finished his task, sliding the gown down her shoulders, until it lay at her waist, captured by the stiff petticoats that yet needed his attention. He drew his breath in horror when he saw the full extent of scars that crisscrossed his wife's back and felt fury at the man who had caused them. Prince Culverton would pay for what he had done, somehow. But tonight, the prince wished only to spend the night making love to his bride.

He bent his head to kiss her back gently, wishing those kisses could erase the scars. She quivered a little as he did so and he asked, "Am I hurting you, my darling?"

"N..No," she whispered. "Your lips feel so wonderful on my skin. They make me want to...feel your lips all over my body."

"I intend to kiss every inch of your perfect body," declared the prince, kissing her shoulders.

His hands moved to Molly's waist to untie the strings that held her petticoats and as they fell, along with the gown, he lifted his bride away from the layers of material.

Before trying his hand at her corset Prince Sherlock returned to lavishing his wife with kisses, moving his mouth from her lips to place soft kisses along her jawline, then down her throat. She gave a little sigh of pleasure which served to inflame him further.

Now her hands were moving, reaching to unbutton his elegant tailcoat followed by his waistcoat which he shrugged off, glad to be rid off those extra layers of material.

He bent his head lower, kissing again one shoulder, then the other, before placing kisses on the soft swell of her breasts, with the restricting garment lifted, to give the allure of creamy bosoms. She gasped, and he knew that his touch excited her, just as her body excited him.

He reached around to remove the laces of her corset, but it was impossible to do so without seeing it. "Turn around for me, darling," he instructed once again, and she did so, remaining silent as he worked for several minutes to remove the corset.

 ** _Next time her lady's maid can do it and just put her in a nightgown,_** he thought to himself, annoyed with the difficulty he was having. The deed finally accomplished, Molly lifted her arms and he realized the corset must be lifted upwards, which he did throwing the restrictive garment to the floor.

She took several deep breaths, as if filling her lungs with air, then shyly turned back towards him. He would have kissed her again, but her small fingers were loosening the knot of his tie, and then the buttons of his shirt so they stood facing each other with chests bared. He kissed her ardently, savoring the taste and feel of her lips, touching her beautiful breasts once again.

He was about to remove her drawers when the princess said nervously, "Sherlock, I...I am shy for you to see me naked."

He had no such qualms about her seeing him that way. Indeed she had certainly glimpsed his nakedness the previous night and the proof that he desired her, but mindful of his wife's feelings he asked, "Would you prefer if we get into bed first?"

She nodded shyly.

"Then, my precious, turn from me and remove your drawers and get into the bed and I shall do likewise."

Once again, his bride followed his instructions as he too removed his remaining articles of clothing. He had a lovely glimpse of shapely derrière before she hastily slipped into the bed, and he followed her.

He could see her visibly trembling now. "Why are you trembling, my darling?" questioned the prince feeling all of a sudden a little fear that she did not want to be with him after all, even though he knew the notion was ridiculous.

She hid her head against his shoulder. "You will think me foolish and ignorant but, I do not exactly know what happens when a man and woman make love."

Prince Sherlock was incredulous. "Has nobody explained it to you? How could you possibly be so innocent at your age?"

"Ladies do not speak of these matters," she mumbled. "I know that when a woman lies with a man sometimes she...has a baby, but I do not know exactly how it happens. All I know is that it must be wonderful, because my parents were so happy together."

"My darling, my sweet!" he exclaimed. "I may lack the practical experience myself, but I do understand the mechanics of what happens, so we can learn from each other. Do you trust me?"

"Of...of course I do, Sherlock. I love you, and I know you would never do anything I did not want you to do."

"How does it feel when I touch and kiss your breasts?"

"Wonderful," she breathed.

"Oh my sweet, innocent darling," he told her feeling very much a man and masterful, "I promise you that is just the beginning."

After he and his bride had made love for the first time he suddenly understood why people were so consumed with their sexual needs. But he had found the one woman who completed him, the one woman who could evoke such sensations and he was thankful and blessed.

As they faced each other afterwards, Sherlock asked his wife, "Molly, my love, was it as wonderful for you as it was for me?"

She blushed and smiled at him. "I did not know anything in the world could be so beautiful, so perfect. Being so close with you, as close as two people can be...it was everything I could have wished for and more."

Her eyes were shining and he felt such love and devotion sweep over him that he had to press his lips once more against hers. "I love you, Molly," he told her, "always."

"Always," she repeated.

He gathered her in his arms and they slept, the deep sleep of complete and utter fulfillment.

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

In the real world, Molly Holmes turned in her husband's embrace. "Love me, Sherlock. I need you."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Much of this chapter and the words used are classic Barbara Cartland style. The way they speak to each other, Molly's complete innocence about making love, is the way the author portrays it in her novels. I wanted to bring the essence of her lovely, romantic style in this chapter. If you have never read any of her novels, go out and find some. Hopefully you will discover my style in this to be very similar. If you have read her stories, tell me if you think I successfully capture the essence of her writing here.

Was the payoff worth all the angsty chapters that preceded it? I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	25. Love is Innocent

**Warning - this is the M rated version. Although not explicit, it is definitely spicier than the T rated one.**

* * *

Prince Sherlock could not stop smiling as he watched his bride walk towards him. Although he could not see her face properly due to the veil, he knew she was feeling exactly as he was. He felt as if angels were singing as Molly drew closer. Then her hand was in his, trembling slightly with the excitement he knew she was feeling and together they faced the vicar for the marriage service. John stood beside Sherlock, while Kaitlyn stood to the left of the princess.

In the front pew sat the queen mother and John's wife, Mary. Nobody else was present and the prince was completely content with that. He had never cared for state occasions and balls where he was required to make small talk to visiting dignitaries.

As the vicar went through the marriage service, Prince Sherlock could not take his eyes off the woman he loved. He squeezed her hand reassuringly when her small hand quivered in his.

They repeated their vows after the vicar, the prince first in his deep voice, followed by the princess in her musical one.

The exchange of rings was made, Mycroft having already had the rings ready in advance. There was no engagement ring for the princess yet, but the queen mother had informed Sherlock that there were several heirloom engagement rings he could choose from stored in the family's vault.

As soon as the vicar pronounced them husband and wife, Prince Sherlock lifted the veil and pressed his lips to his new wife's. Her lips, as always, were so soft and inviting that he found himself extending the kiss well beyond what was usually the protocol. He was only brought back to reality by the vicar's polite cough, at which the queen mother said rather loudly, "It's about time my son enjoyed a decent kiss, and I am glad to see he knows how to do it properly."

As Sherlock's face reddened, the little group, including his new wife, chuckled.

Then it was time to sign the marriage register to make their union legally binding, after which the ensemble gathered around the newly married couple.

John slapped his best friend on the back. "Well you did it, my friend. I can scarce believe you've actually taken the plunge after telling me so often the folly of romantic entanglements."

"I had not yet met Molly, but she has shown me the error of my ways."

Sherlock's mother kissed her son on his cheek and said, "I am so happy for you my son. Now go and make me some grandchildren to spoil in my old age."

At that, both the prince and princess, who had been getting hugs of congratulation from the women, blushed.

Sherlock could feel his heartbeat accelerate at the thought that soon he would be in bed, making love to his wife.

The best part about having a wedding with so few people, reflected the prince a few minutes later, was that they did not need to linger. The others, save Kaitlyn, were returning to the ball.

Sherlock and Molly made their way along the garden path towards the castle. Due to the lateness of the hour there was nobody in the gardens anymore, although the terrace doors had been open earlier. The couple slipped in through the side door and made their way up a side staircase until they reached the end of the west wing, on the opposite side to where they usually traversed the corridor.

The prince opened the door to the bedchamber Molly was using to find a fire was lit casting a glow about the room, and two candles, one on each side of the bed, were also lit.

The glow from the fire meant Sherlock could clearly see the expression on his wife's face as he turned towards her.

"'We are really married, Sherlock," she said, and there was a note of rapture in her voice.

"Yes my darling, we are" he responded "and now I can make you mine as you were meant to be from the beginning of time."

He took the princess in his arms and began to kiss her, demandingly and passionately, eliciting her ardent response. He could feel the way her body responded to him, how soft she was, how yielding and it thrilled him to know that they had been given this chance at happiness.

He kissed her until it seemed as if the world spun dizzily around them, and their hearts were both pounding. His hands drew off her veil and tiara, which he laid on the dressing table chair. The prince's hands found the tiny buttons that fastened the back of her beautiful ball gown that had turned out to be her wedding gown. He worked to unfasten them, but had difficulty doing it without seeing them.

"Turn around, my love, that I may finish unfastening your gown."

The princess turned around and Sherlock finished his task, sliding the gown down her shoulders, until it lay at her waist, captured by the stiff petticoats that yet needed his attention. He drew his breath in horror when he saw the full extent of scars that crisscrossed his wife's back and felt fury at the man who had caused them. Prince Culverton would pay for what he had done, somehow. But tonight, the prince wished only to spend the night making love to his bride.

He bent his head to kiss her back gently, wishing those kisses could erase the scars. She quivered a little as he did so and he asked, "Am I hurting you, my darling?"

"N..No," she whispered. "Your lips feel so wonderful on my skin. They make me want to...feel your lips all over my body."

"I intend to kiss every inch of your perfect body," declared the prince, kissing her shoulders.

His hands moved to Molly's waist to untie the strings that held her petticoats and as they fell, along with the gown, he lifted his bride away from the layers of material.

Before trying his hand at her corset Prince Sherlock returned to lavishing his wife with kisses, moving his mouth from her lips to place soft kisses along her jawline, then down her throat. She gave a little sigh of pleasure which served to inflame him further.

Now her hands were moving, reaching to unbutton his elegant tailcoat followed by his waistcoat which he shrugged off, glad to be rid off those extra layers of material.

He bent his head lower, kissing again one shoulder, then the other, before placing kisses on the soft swell of her breasts, with the restricting garment lifted, to give the allure of creamy bosoms. She gasped, and he knew that his touch excited her, just as her body excited him.

He reached around to remove the laces of her corset, but it was impossible to do so without seeing it. "Turn around for me, darling," he instructed once again, and she did so, remaining silent as he worked for several minutes to remove the corset.

 ** _Next time her lady's maid can do it and just put her in a nightgown,_** he thought to himself, annoyed with the difficulty he was having. The deed finally accomplished, Molly lifted her arms and he realized the corset must be lifted upwards, which he did, throwing the restrictive garment to the floor.

She took several deep breaths, as if filling her lungs with air, then shyly turned back towards him. He would have kissed her again, but her small fingers were loosening the knot of his tie, and then the buttons of his shirt so they stood facing each other with chests bared. He kissed her ardently, savoring the taste and feel of her lips, touching her beautiful breasts once again.

Then he remembered the words of the courtesan. "There is a secret place, Sherlock. It is a place where women can find great pleasure." She had lewdly demonstrated over her clothes what she meant. He had been rather shocked and horrified by the woman's actions, and that was when he had finally sent the woman away. Now he realized he wanted to touch his wife more intimately, to discover for himself whether he could evoke a reaction of pleasure from his lovely bride.

He was about to remove her drawers when the princess said nervously, "Sherlock, I...I am shy for you to see me naked."

He had no such qualms about her seeing him that way. Indeed she had certainly glimpsed his nakedness the previous night and the proof that he desired her, but mindful of his wife's feelings he asked, "Would you prefer if we get into bed first?"

She nodded shyly.

"Then, my precious, turn from me and remove your drawers and get into the bed and I shall do likewise."

Once again, his bride followed his instructions as he too removed his remaining articles of clothing. He had a lovely glimpse of shapely derrière before she hastily slipped into the bed, and he followed her.

He could see her visibly trembling now. "Why are you trembling, my darling?" questioned the prince feeling all of a sudden a little fear that she did not want to be with him after all, even though he knew the notion was ridiculous.

She hid her head against his shoulder. "You will think me foolish and ignorant but, I do not exactly know what happens when a man and woman make love."

Prince Sherlock was incredulous. "Has nobody explained it to you? How could you possibly be so innocent at your age?"

"Ladies do not speak of these matters," she mumbled. "I know that when a woman lies with a man sometimes she...has a baby, but I do not know exactly how it happens. All I know is that it must be wonderful, because my parents were so happy together."

"My darling, my sweet!" he exclaimed. "I may lack the practical experience myself, but I do understand the mechanics of what happens, so we can learn from each other. Do you trust me?"

"Of...of course I do, Sherlock. I love you, and I know you would never do anything I did not want you to do."

"How does it feel when I touch and kiss your breasts?"

"Wonderful," she breathed.

"I am told there is nother place that is even more wonderful for a woman." His hands moved along her body then, stopping briefly to caress her breasts, then one slid down further, searching for the place Janine had spoken of. He knew he had found it when Molly suddenly gasped. He was fascinated by her reaction, and he continued to experiment, touching, teasing as she whimpered and moved her head from side to side.

Finally she cried out and convulsed against him and he felt a huge surge of desire sweep through him. It had been almost as thrilling for him as it was for her.

"Is that...is that how you make a baby?" His wife asked, when she had regained control of her breathing.

"Oh, my sweet, innocent darling," he told her, feeling very much a man and masterful, "That is just the beginning."

Then he guided her and himself into a position he instinctively knew was what was right and slowly, so as not to hurt her, joined with her. He almost cried out at the intensity of feeling it brought him, feeling the warmth of her body around him, the depth of her own passion evidenced by the relative ease in which he was able to complete the action. Then he was moving, glorying in her body, in her soft cries as they made love, and he knew this was true love, being together in the way God intended man and woman to be.

And finally he too cried out with the joy, the perfection of completion from their union. It was indescribable, the feeling of bliss he felt, and he suddenly understood why people were so consumed with their sexual needs. But he had found the one woman who completed him, the one woman who could evoke such sensations, and he was thankful, and blessed.

He slid his body off of Molly's, and she turned so they faced each other. They were both breathing hard as a result of their union, but he managed to ask, "Molly, my love, was it as wonderful for you as it was for me?"

She blushed and smiled at him. "I did not know anything in the world could be so beautiful, so perfect. Being so close with you, as close as two people can be...it was everything I could have wished for and more."

Her eyes were shining and he felt such love and devotion sweep over him that he had to press his lips once more against hers. "I love you, Molly," he told her, "always."

"Always," she repeated.

He gathered her in his arms and they slept, the deep sleep of complete and utter fulfillment.

.../.../.../.../.../.../

In the real world, Molly Holmes turned in her husband's embrace. "Love me, Sherlock. I need you."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Much of this chapter and the words used are classic Barbara Cartland style. The way they speak to each other, Molly's complete innocence about making love, is the way the author portrays it in her novels. I know I go into a lot more detail about the intimacies than a Barbara Cartland novel, but I wanted to bring the essence of her lovely, romantic style in this chapter. If you have never read any of her novels, go out and find some. Hopefully you will discover my style in this to be very similar. If you have read her stories, tell me if you think I successfully capture the essence of her writing here.

Was the payoff worth all the angsty chapters that preceded it? I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	26. Lessons in Love - T rated

Thanks VictorianLady79 for beta'ing.

* * *

Sherlock Holmes of 221B Baker Street opened his eyes. It was still the middle of the night. What had awakened him?

Oh, his wife was doing it again, moving against him and murmuring, what was it?

"Love me, Sherlock. I need you."

That was some sexy dream she was having, he thought with interest. He wondered if it was the same one, the one with the prince. If she wanted to make love again he was not going to complain, but he would not play second fiddle to that prince. He would make sure his wife was fully in her right mind.

"Molly," he whispered.

"Mmm?" She responded drowsily.

"Who do you want to make love to - the prince or your husband?"

She turned to face him and her eyes opened fully. Then she said quite clearly, "The prince and princess just got married, so technically if I were to answer that as the princess it would be "both." But this very hot dream has um, gotten me rather hot for a bit of loving from my wonderful detective husband."

Why don't you tell me about it?" Sherlock inquired.

"Can't we just make love first?"

"Nope, I want to make certain you are truly awake before we make love. So, tell me." He glanced over at the digital display on the clock. "A couple of hours ago when you woke me up to make love, you were talking about the prince and princess. Still the same dream?"

"Same dream, but oh, so lovely. After all the obstacles, they got married."

"And lived happily ever after I presume?"

"I don't know. There is definitely unfinished business, a wicked stepfather's wrath, for instance."

"I'm intrigued. Do tell."

He started to press soft kisses along his wife's shoulders as she explained about King Mycroft and how he was supposed to marry the princess, but she fell in love with the younger brother.

He lifted his head, "You dreamed that you were supposed to marry my brother? That is a very unpleasant thought."

Molly giggled, then squirmed as Sherlock moved closer to kiss her enticing curves. "He...he made things come right in the end. Made it so they could get married."

Sherlock moved his attentions to her other breast after murmuring, "And the stepfather?"

Molly gasped a little, then said breathlessly, "Culverton Smith is her stepfather and he whips her."

The detective paused again. "I'm not sure I like this dream of yours. In fact, it sounds pretty terrible. Your princess character was whipped by that snake of a man?"

"Yes, but he was drugged at the betrothal ball to fall asleep so he didn't know the prince and princess got betrothed instead of the King and herself."

Now Sherlock was even more perplexed. "Okay, you don't need to tell me any more, I am confused. But they got married."

Oh there is one very Barbara Cartland type premise that I think will interest you."

Sherlock gazed into his wife's stunning brown eyes that were always so luminous and soft. "What is that?"

"She didn't even know what making love entailed, so he had to show her just like the sweet innocents in the novels."

"Are you expecting me to act as if you are an innocent, my love?"

"Teach me, Sherlock," said his wife in a breathy tone.

Sherlock snorted. "Are you really going to pretend you don't know anything about sex? You're pregnant. I think that scenario is rather unlikely."

"But I don't look pregnant." Suddenly she paled and sat up, then dashed to the bathroom. Sherlock immediately turned on the lamp, hopped out of bed and went to the kitchen for a glass of flat lemonade and Ritz crackers. He knew the drill. By the time she returned from being sick he had them ready on her bedside table.

Molly looked at him gratefully. "Thank you, darling."

He sat with her, sweeping her hair to the side and massaging her shoulders as his wife ate the crackers and drank the lemonade.

A few minutes later she was finished and twisted to put her arms around him. "You are the best husband," she declared, pressing her lips to his.

"I am assuming you'd like some rest now?" he asked after she pulled back from him, trying to keep the disappointment out of his tone. He'd been been rather interested at the idea of acting out the role of worldly lover to an innocent.

"You assume wrong, husband," she told him in no uncertain terms, caressing his cheek with her forefinger. "I'm feeling perfectly fine right now. I don't know how long it will last though, so I suggest you get busy - teaching me." She batted her eyelashes at him and gave him a not-so-innocent seductive look.

So he took her in his arms once again, kissing her all over her sweet face - her eyes, her cheeks, her forehead, her chin and then capturing her lips with his own.

Molly made a sigh of contentment and wrapped her arms about his neck, twisting her fingers into his curls.

She pressed her body up against his, provoking the flames of desire within him so they burned brighter until they became an all-consuming fire that enveloped them both.

He covered her mouth with his own, kissing her until she moved her mouth away from his gasping and pleading with him, "Sherlock, my darling, I need you now."

As they lay entwined afterwards, catching their breath, Molly asked drowsily. "Will you sing to me and the baby again? Maybe your voice will get me back into that dream. I really want to finish it."

"Of course, my love". So Sherlock rocked his wife gently in his arms and sang the words of Brahms' Lullaby once again.

As before, the magic of the song caused Molly to fall asleep and her dream resumed, picking up the story thread as the dream couple lay entwined in the same manner as their real counterparts.

* * *

 **Author's note:** How did you enjoy this chapter? Did you like Molly's request for Sherlock to "teach her?" Do you find it jarring to be taken out of the story and back into the real world for a chapter? Do you feel it works or not? If you are not a fan of the interrupted dream premise (or if you are) please let me know. Your response will help me decide whether I should continue as I've been doing, or have the dream run uninterrupted to its conclusion for future stories of this type (and yeah, I am working on the next one already).

As the reader, you have the power to influence my future stories if you will just take a minute or two to respond. Thank you.


	27. Lessons in Love

Warning - this is the M rated (though NOT-explicit) version.

* * *

Sherlock Holmes of 221B Baker Street opened his eyes. It was still the middle of the night. What had awakened him?

Oh, his wife was doing it again, moving against him and murmuring, what was it?

"Love me, Sherlock. I need you."

That was some sexy dream she was having, he thought with interest. He wondered if it was the same one, the one with the prince. If she wanted to make love again he was not going to complain, but he would not play second fiddle to that prince. He would make sure his wife was fully in her right mind.

"Molly," he whispered.

"Mmm?" She responded drowsily.

"Who do you want to make love to - the prince or your husband?"

She turned to face him and her eyes opened fully. Then she said quite clearly, "The prince and princess just got married, so technically if I were to answer that as the princess it would be 'both.' But this very hot dream has um, gotten me rather hot for a bit of loving from my wonderful detective husband."

Why don't you tell me about it?" Sherlock inquired.

"Can't we just make love first?"

"Nope, I want to make certain you are truly awake before we make love. So, tell me." He glanced over at the digital display on the clock. "A couple of hours ago when you woke me up to make love, you were talking about the prince and princess. Still the same dream?"

"Same dream, but oh, so lovely. After all the obstacles, they got married."

"And lived happily ever after, I presume?"

"I don't know. There is definitely unfinished business, a wicked stepfather's wrath, for instance."

"I'm intrigued. Do tell."

He started to press soft kisses along his wife's shoulders as she explained about King Mycroft and how he was supposed to marry the princess, but she fell in love with the younger brother.

He lifted his head, "You dreamed that you were supposed to marry my brother? That is a very unpleasant thought."

Molly giggled, then squirmed as Sherlock moved closer to kiss her enticing curves. "He...he made things come right in the end. Made it so they could get married."

Sherlock moved his attentions to her other breast after murmuring, "And the stepfather?"

Molly gasped a little, then said breathlessly, "Culverton Smith is her stepfather and he whips her."

The detective paused again. "I'm not sure I like this dream of yours. In fact, it sounds pretty terrible. Your princess character was whipped by that snake of a man?"

"Yes, but he was drugged at the betrothal ball to fall asleep so he didn't know the prince and princess got betrothed instead of the king and herself."

Now Sherlock was even more perplexed. "Okay, you don't need to tell me any more, I am confused. But they got married at least."

Oh there is one very Barbara Cartland type premise that I think will interest you."

Sherlock gazed into his wife's stunning brown eyes that were always so luminous and soft. "What is that?"

"She didn't even know what making love entailed, so he had to show her just like the sweet innocents in the novels."

"Are you expecting me to act as if you are an innocent, my love?"

"Teach me, Sherlock," said his wife in a breathy tone.

Sherlock snorted. "Are you really going to pretend you don't know anything about sex? You're pregnant. I think that scenario is rather unlikely."

"But I don't look pregnant." Suddenly she paled and sat up, then dashed to the bathroom. Sherlock immediately turned on the lamp, hopped out of bed and went to the kitchen for a glass of flat lemonade and Ritz crackers. He knew the drill. By the time she returned from being sick he had them ready on her bedside table.

Molly looked at him gratefully. "Thank you, darling."

He sat with her, sweeping her hair to the side and massaging her shoulders as his wife ate the crackers and drank the lemonade.

A few minutes later she was finished and twisted to put her arms around him. "You are the best husband," she declared, pressing her lips to his.

"I am assuming you'd like some rest now?" he asked after she pulled back from him, trying to keep the disappointment out of his tone. He'd been been rather interested at the idea of acting out the role of worldly lover to an innocent.

"You assume wrong, husband," she told him in no uncertain terms, caressing his cheek with her forefinger. "I'm feeling perfectly fine right now. I don't know how long it will last though, so I suggest you get busy - teaching me." She batted her eyelashes at him and gave him a not-so-innocent seductive look.

So he took her in his arms once again, kissing her all over her sweet face - her eyes, her cheeks, her forehead, her chin and then capturing her lips with his own.

Molly made a sigh of contentment and wrapped her arms about his neck, twisting her fingers into his curls.

She pressed her body up against his, provoking the flames of desire within him so they burned brighter.

"How did the prince teach the princess, Molly?" he murmured huskily, trailing his fingers across her breasts lightly, eliciting a giggle.

"First, he...touched her."

"I am touching you," he said, lazily trailing his hand along the underside of her breast this time. She giggled again. He knew she was deathly ticklish when he touched her so lightly.

"N..no," she gasped between giggles. "He touched her...intimately."

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at his wife. "This was an extremely erotic dream, I see. Perhaps I am not doing a good job at pleasing you if you have to dream about it." As he spoke, he drifted his hand down towards that intimate place he knew she was talking about.

Molly gasped. "I can't control my dreams Sherlock. At least they are all with you and not some shadowy figure."

Sherlock smiled as he continued to tantalize his wife until she began to make very satisfying noises.

He covered her mouth with his own, kissing her until she moved hers away from his, gasping and pleading with him, "Sherlock, my darling, I need you now."

So he joined with her in the love they shared, loving her gently, as if she had never been loved before. Even as he continued to love her, he kissed her sweet lips, delighting in his woman, his beloved wife, until they reached the ecstasy of perfect union.

As they lay entwined afterwards, catching their breath, Molly asked drowsily. "Will you sing to me and the baby again? Maybe your voice will get me back into that dream. I really want to finish it."

"Of course, my love". So Sherlock rocked his wife gently in his arms and sang the words of Brahms' Lullaby once again.

As before, the magic of the song caused Molly to fall asleep and her dream resumed, picking up the story thread as the dream couple lay entwined in the same manner as their real counterparts.

* * *

 **Author's note:** How did you enjoy this chapter? Did you like Molly's request for Sherlock to "teach her?" Do you find it jarring to be taken out of the story and back into the real world for a chapter? Do you feel it works or not? If you are not a fan of the interrupted dream premise (or if you are) please let me know. Your response will help me decide whether I should continue as I've been doing, or have the dream run uninterrupted to its conclusion for future stories of this type (and yeah, I am working on the next one already).

As the reader, you have the power to influence my future stories if you will just take a minute or two to respond. Thank you.


	28. In the Arms of Love

**Author's note 1:** Doing T rated versions of chapters did not elicit the response to justify the extra time, so I have decided to just continue with my chapters as is. I have been told by several readers that my M is done tastefully, without explicit content, so will just assume that readers who don't like love scenes in general, can gloss over them.

* * *

Princess Molly awoke. For a moment she wondered if it had all been a dream, that she and Sherlock were actually married. Then she felt the warm arms of her husband about her and knew, with a sense of indescribable joy, that it was no dream. They were really married, and they had made love. It had been the most wonderful, the most beautiful thing in the world, being intimate with him in that way.

She thought back to the marriage service. It had been such a small, private ceremony, exactly the way she would have wished, no people staring at them. The look in Sherlock's eyes, his look of adoration had completely undone her. She was trembling from the thrilling knowledge that, despite the obstacles, they were actually doing it, getting married. Her heart sang with joy, and when they exchanged rings, she knew their union was one blessed by God.

As they were congratulated by their friends the queen mother, Molly had been anxious to just be alone with her new husband. She had also been extremely shy. Sheltered as she had been by her parents, she had not known what it really meant to make love. She had vaguely assumed there was kissing involved, as it seemed that people who kissed would have babies, but the truth had been so much more fulfilling.

Being joined intimately, as close as two people could be, had given her a sense of truly belonging to Sherlock, and of him belonging to her. She suddenly realized how different it would have been with the king. Being joined in that way would have been a horrifying experience. Having his body invading hers in that manner would have felt unclean.

But with Sherlock it felt right, as if their bodies had been made for one another. She felt a stirring of desire within her, and realized she wanted to experience it again. She placed soft kisses onto her husband's chest, and he opened his eyes.

"Molly, my wife," he murmured, pulling her in close so he could kiss her. She opened her mouth to his, welcoming it, feeling the sensations coursing through her body as the little tongues of fire within her leapt into roaring flame.

This time her hands traversed a path downwards, as she explored the planes of her husband's chest. He was so solid, with only a small sprinkling of hair that she could feel. She liked that he did not have excessive body hair, well, except for the wonderful curls on his head that she liked to feel beneath her fingers.

As he continued to kiss her deeply, his hands caressing her back, moving them in circles, she daringly moved her own lower along his torso until she was able to feel with her hand what her body had experienced. She was fascinated, especially by the groan he emitted when she touched him there. Her hand explored him in much the same way as he had done with her, until he groaned again and pulled her hand away.

"Enough, my love," he entreated. "I need you and your sweet body. I need to be with you, loving you, making love to you."

Molly thrilled at his words, feeling the ecstasy as they made love again, as he touched her, lifting her up into the sky with him, where it felt as if they touched the heavens. **_How could love like this be so powerful, so incredibly perfect?_** she wondered as their hearts beat as one.

They were dozing in the aftermath of their union, and she was nestled in Sherlock's arms when, to their utter shock, the door handle turned.

Prince Sherlock had not thought to lock it, never expecting anyone to enter without permission, but the handle was turning, and even as the couple watched, it swung open and Prince Culverton stood there.

There was an expression of fury on his face and hatred in his eyes as he approached the bed.

He held his whip in his hand, ready to strike, as he snarled, "You little strumpet! You harlot! How dare you ruin the plans I had for you!"

He brought the whip up as he spoke and then brought it downward. Before the prince and princess had time to react, he had hit his mark, along Molly's shoulders where she was still pressed up against her husband in fear. She let out an involuntary cry of pain as the man raised his whip again. There was madness in his eyes, and she was sure her stepfather intended to kill her.

Just as he was about to bring the whip down again however, the prince sprang from the bed and, with lightning-like reflexes, knocked the whip from the older man's hand.

Molly gasped as she saw the men fighting, her husband completely naked, struggling to reach the discarded whip.

Prince Culverton made a grab for it, but the prince bore down on him with a menacing expression and said, "How dare you touch my wife. I will have satisfaction for this." Knocking the man aside, he picked up the whip and struck the older man with it.

Prince Culverton howled with pain and responded with, "I'll see you pay for this as well, prince. I challenge you to a duel. We shall see who's the victor then."

Prince Sherlock stood then, immobile, defiant in his nakedness and hissed, "I accept. What are your terms?"

"Pistols, tomorrow at dawn. You have made a cuckold of me, and of the royal house of Bartonia, and I intend to see my honour satisfied."

"You can not undo what is done, Prince Culverton," said Sherlock in a quieter tone. "We are legally wed, and the marriage has been consummated. You have no legal recourse. You still have your money and your horses as well."

"The marriage was supposed to be between the princess and the king," insisted the prince. "You have violated the marriage contract."

Molly was watching the interaction between the men, and felt dread inside her as they continued to talk.

"Perhaps you should have perused the new marriage contract better," remarked Prince Sherlock, with a sneer at the foreigner. "You were too greedy for your new acquisitions to notice that the names of the participants had been omitted, and it only stated the marriage was to be an alliance between the royal houses of Bartonia and Bakeristan. I am a prince of Bakeristan, am I not?" He gave the man a lazy smile. "Face it, Culverton," Molly noticed the deliberate absence of title her husband used, "your evil plan has been outwitted."

Calmly, Sherlock gestured for the other man to leave. "We shall speak later about the arrangements for the duel tomorrow morning. For now, you will leave my wife and myself in peace, or by God, I shall have you removed from the castle immediately. I assure you, my brother would be only too happy to indulge me in this. I need only walk across to his bedchamber, and he will see you thrown out of here so you can return to Bartonia in disgrace."

"Very well," agreed the older man reluctantly. "I shall leave you for now. But I shall look forward to our duel tomorrow, and to making you pay for what you have done." With those words, the foreign prince exited the room and Prince Sherlock locked the door behind him.

Molly got out of the bed and flung herself into her husband's arms. "You must not...duel with my stepfather. He is a crack shot. He...will kill you!" She began to press kisses frantically against his skin, anywhere she could reach, sobbing as she did so. She was uncaring of the fact that she was presenting herself now completely naked, although she had been too shy for him to look upon her the previous night. She was too desperate to make him listen to her.

Then Sherlock clasped her face in his hands and brought her frightened gaze upwards to look into his calm, steady one. "It will be alright, my love," he told her, with a tender kiss to her trembling lips. "I too am known for being an excellent shot. Besides, a duel is not about killing one another; it is about satisfying honour. We will walk ten paces, turn and stand sideways, then shoot. The faster person will undoubtedly wing the other one. Honour will be satisfied, and Prince Culverton will no longer plague us. Even if your stepfather is successful, it will only be my arm, which will heal. I would willingly take a bullet for you, my love."

"I am so frightened, Sherlock," she told him despairingly. "I don't want you to be hurt, and what will become of my mother when my stepfather returns home? She will be in danger from his wrath. Oh, I have been so selfish to marry you without thinking of the consequences to her." Her voice trembled as she spoke. Why had she not considered this before?

"Do not worry about that, my love. It is not selfish for you to desire happiness for yourself, although I understand your fears. My brother will figure out something," the prince replied with confidence. "We shall expose your stepfather for the beast he is, if he dares to touch anyone that way again." Then he added, almost to himself, "I should like to know how it is your stepfather came to your room at such an early hour, although perhaps it is not so early anymore. Someone must have told him we were betrothed last night."

"I expect it was his valet," responded the princess, trying to figure things out for herself. "I believe that man spies for him, and is his eyes and ears in all things." She shuddered with revulsion. "Magnussen has such dead eyes."

"Damn and blast the man," expostulated the young prince. "I should have thought of that. But, I did not expect your stepfather to come and seek immediate vengeance. Oh my darling," he added, as if the thought had just struck him, "where are you hurt? How hard did he strike you?"

The princess thought for a moment. In all that had happened, she had completely forgotten the prince had struck her with his whip. Now, at the reminder, she realized her shoulders did indeed sting, where the whip had lashed her soft flesh. "It is not so bad," she told her husband. "I have a salve in the dressing table drawer, which I have used before. It takes away the sting and helps it to heal quickly."

The prince's expression darkened , and she knew he was furious at the thought of her having been beaten so many times that she required an ointment for the wounds. He walked to the dressing table however and drew out a small pot. "Is this it?" he asked, and Molly nodded.

Gently, ever so gently, Sherlock brushed her hair aside and applied the salve to the thin line across her shoulders. Molly let out a sigh of relief as the coolness of the medicine took away most of the sting. "Thank you," she told her husband gratefully.

His expression was still stormy as he said, "I wish I could kill that man. That creature - that rotting thing is a living, breathing coagulation of human evil." He spoke fiercely, and Molly knew that Sherlock was more irate than he had probably been in his entire life.

Then he stroked her cheek gently and in a completely different tone said, "Come, my sweet. We do not need to be up yet, let us go back to bed." He grasped her waist to put her away from him slightly and gazed upon her fully, so that she blushed.

"Why are you so shy?" he asked her, looking into her eyes. "Your body is perfect, and now, seeing you naked this way, it is tempting me yet again."

Her eyes widened. "But we just made love a short time ago, do you not require some time to...recover?"

She followed the direction of his gaze as it drifted downward and sucked in her breath as he said silkily, "Oh, I think I am sufficiently recovered to enjoy another round of lovemaking, don't you?"

She could only nod, as he swept her up into his arms, being careful not to touch the wound on her shoulders, and gently laid her upon the bed so she was on her side, facing him. And then his hands and mouth roamed her body, eliciting sweet sensations within her that made her whimper with need, until he joined with her yet again. This time there was more urgency in his movements, as if he feared he might lose her, as if the thought of what would come on the morrow made him crave her desperately, and he could not get enough of her.

Afterwards, Molly lay trembling in his arms, spent and exhausted from their shared passion. "You are so magnificent, Sherlock. How is it that you cause those sensations through my body?"

He kissed her hair before saying in his velvety baritone, "Because, my darling, we were made for one another. You make me feel the same way."

The newlyweds lay there quietly for some minutes before they heard a knock at the door. A voice called. "Begging your pardon, Your Royal Highnesses, I've left some breakfast on a tray outside the door."

The couple glanced at each other.

"Apparently the news of our precipitous nuptials has spread," remarked her husband. "Mycroft must have seen to that, and to the arrangements of food for us."

"How thoughtful of him," murmured the princess.

"Stay in bed, my lovely one. I shall fetch my dressing gown from my bedchamber and bring in the tray."

He did so, and the couple ate. Molly realized she was very hungry, as was apparently her husband due to the exertions of their night's activities.

After they were finished, the prince took the tray and put it outside the door of the bedchamber, then removed his dressing gown to lay in bed once again with his new wife.

"Must we leave the room today?" inquired the princess.

"I am sure food will be brought to us throughout the day," responded Prince Sherlock. "We are on our honeymoon, after all."

Molly ducked her head shyly against him. "Do you suppose everyone will be talking about what we have been...doing?"

Sherlock chuckled and his arms tightened around her. "Probably, my love. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Maybe we have made a baby?" she suggested hopefully.

The prince chuckled again. "I intend to spend many hours, days, weeks to ensure it. My mother did, after all, tell us to hurry and provide her with grandchildren."

This time Molly giggled. "It was quite funny what she said in the chapel after you kissed me."

"It was rather embarrassing the way she made fun of my kissing technique."

"Your kissing technique is perfect, Sherlock," said the princess passionately.

"I am glad you think so." Then he remarked, rather thoughtfully, "I should not be at all surprised if my mother knew this would happen all along. It seemed as though the moment she knew I was developing an affection for you, she started pushing us together."

"I should not be surprised either, especially with the way she worded the betrothal ball invitations as her son and not the king," ventured the princess.

As the day progressed, the couple spent most of it in the bed, talking about their shared interests, kissing and making love. A tray appeared at both luncheon time and dinner time for them.

Soon after they had eaten their dinner, Prince Sherlock said reluctantly, "I had better go in search of Mycroft and make preparations for tomorrow."

The princess couldn't stop the chill that ran through her at the thought of what lay ahead. "What if my stepfather...kills you?"

"My darling, I have already explained to you how a duel works. We will be standing sideways. You stay here in the morning and I will return as soon as it is over. I will be fine."

"No, I need to come, to be with you," said Molly stubbornly.

"Women do not attend duels, my precious."

"I do not care," responded the princess. "I will not stay here while you are in danger."

"I can see you have made up your mind. You must stay out of sight however when the time comes."

"I can do that," Molly promised.

"Well, my lovely little wife, I must leave now. Lock the door after me so you are safe. I shall knock and call out to you upon my return." He dressed quickly in shirt and trousers and departed, after which the princess locked the door to the room.

She was fearful for her husband's safety, but at least he had agreed she could be there in the morning.

She lay in the bed, intending to wait for the prince's return, but she was actually very tired and soon fell into slumber.

* * *

 **Author's note 2:** And here comes the fallout. It couldn't be all hearts and flowers now, could it? Did you spot the canon reference about Culverton Smith?

What do you think will happen with the duel?

Are you enjoying the twists and turns of this story?

I am dealing with ongoing pain from months of constant typing, so will be slowing my publishing rate to deal with it, while trying to continue work on my major story as my focus.


	29. A Duel of Hearts

**Author's note1: A special thanks to the readers who understand the encouragement a writer gets when their work is commented upon. They are the reasons we keep writing and sharing our imaginations, rather than keeping those stories to ourselves.**

* * *

Thanks VictorianLady79 for beta'ing.

* * *

Prince Sherlock left the bedchamber and walked downstairs. Although he had been careful to disguise his feelings from his bride, he was worried. He had never fought a duel before, just observed one occasionally. Mycroft had been involved in a couple of them before he became king, incidences of irate husbands calling him out for bedding their only-too-willing wives. Mycroft might not have been particularly handsome, but he had been the future king and many women had been only too anxious to be with him because of that.

Sherlock's father, King William, for whom he was named, had actually taught both of his sons how to shoot from an early age. Sherlock had really not been interested, being more preoccupied with his books, but the late king had insisted that any son of his must know how to protect himself in the event of an emergency. To please his father, the very young prince had learned to shoot accurately at a target until his father was satisfied. Shooting at a target, however, was not the same as the prospect of shooting another human being.

Finding a footman on duty in the hall, Sherlock inquired as to where he might find his brother.

"The king and queen mother are in the salon, Your Highness," said the young man.

"Do you know where Prince Culverton is?" further inquired the prince.

"I believe he is in his bedchamber, Your Highness." Then he added, "I heard raised voices between the king and prince earlier in the day."

"Thank you," responded Sherlock, making his way towards the salon. Culverton had probably been railing about being outwitted, he thought. Had he told Mycroft of the duel planned for the morrow?

Prince Sherlock entered the salon to find his brother and mother in serious conversation.

The king looked up as he entered. "Sherlock, I am glad you are here. I had thought to have you summoned, although I did not wish to disturb you so soon after your wedding night." He smirked at his brother and the young prince flushed. "I am glad you have saved me the trouble."

"I assume you have heard the story then from Prince Culverton. Apparently you were with him earlier and exchanged words?"

"Yes, brother mine. He informed me that his valet had broken the news this morning to him that the princess's betrothal to you was announced, rather than to myself. He told me he went in search of the princess and found you in her bed."

"That bastard had his whip in hand and struck my wife with it too, before I was able to prevent it," the prince said angrily, and his mother gasped in horror.

"That man is a monster," declared the queen mother. "I am so glad we were able to beat him at his own game."

Sherlock turned to his mother. "Molly and I have been wondering, Mother - was this your plan all along?"

The elderly woman blushed slightly. "Not until I saw the way you looked at her and then pleaded with your eyes for me to deal with Prince Culverton so you could spend time with her alone. Of course, I was certain of your feelings when we had that conversation and you told me how she was interested in the same things as you were and how fortunate Mycroft was to have found such an intelligent woman."

Both the king and prince stared at their mother as she went on. "From that moment, I knew that you, my son, had finally fallen in love and I was determined to make sure you were given the opportunity for happiness." She looked over at her older son. "As for you, Mycroft, I was certain you would have no great problem in relinquishing the princess to your brother, if it meant I would no longer ask you to wed. Indeed, I was certain this was the way things should be done, and I worded the betrothal ball invitation specifically to be ambiguous. It gave me great delight to outwit that odious man."

Prince Sherlock looked at his mother admiringly. Then he kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you. You have given me the greatest gift I could have ever received."

The queen mother beamed. "I would do anything for my boys."

"Your favourite boy at least," remarked Mycroft, rather dryly.

"Nonsense, Myc. You benefit from this too. Now you can continue your liaison with Lady Smallwood without needing to have a wife as well."

"You know entirely too much about what is going on in this castle," said the king, with a wry smile.

"Well, of course I do. I may be an old woman, but I am not dead yet! Now hurry up and let's talk about this duel you just told me about, Mycroft. I'm sure your brother wants to return to his honeymoon." She gave her younger son a broad wink and he flushed again. "I shall be expecting to have a grandson, or granddaughter in nine months from now."

Mycroft snorted. "Let's hope he knows what to do to ensure that happens."

Sherlock scowled. "You certainly told me in enough graphic detail of your past exploits. Anyway, Mother is right, I'd like to get back to my honeymoon, especially in light of the fact I will be participating in a duel in the morning."

"Very well. Prince Culverton has informed me that his valet will be his second. You need to choose one. Also, someone needs to be in charge of counting your paces and telling you when to turn and fire."

"Obviously John should be my second. He is a doctor and would be able to attend to any wounds that might occur."

"If I had my way," interposed the queen mother, "you would shoot that evil man and let him bleed to death."

"He would not die from an arm wound in any case," responded the prince. "Mycroft, will you do the honours of counting the paces?"

"Of course, brother mine. I also suggest Inspector Lestrade be present, in case that man tries anything untoward."

"He wouldn't dare!" expostulated the elderly woman.

"I would hope not," responded King Mycroft. "Nevertheless, it is always wise to be prepared. Sherlock, I shall have word sent to the village that John must be here at five on the morrow. We will go to the field across from the stables. If all goes well, you will have your honour satisfied and Prince Culverton can return home to Bartonia."

"How did you make it known that the princess and I were married last night? By the way, thank you for the meals that were sent to her bedchamber for us."

"I had an announcement sent to the papers, informing them that the two of you did not wish to be married with pomp and circumstance, and had a private ceremony immediately following the ball. I know people will be disappointed, but it was the best way. It also ensured that Prince Culverton had no recourse."

"Molly is fearful of the retribution that may be inflicted upon her mother. Is there anything we can do to prevent that?"

"I informed the prince already that I have my own people close by, within reach of Bartonia. If he dares to step out of line, I will find a way to have him imprisoned for his misdeeds. If it is made public that he abused his step-daughter, people will turn against him and he will be disgraced at the very least."

"Thank you Mycroft," Sherlock said sincerely. "That will ease Molly's mind significantly."

"I am glad to do it. She makes you happy, therefore I am willing to do whatever it takes to make her happy as well." Then the king added, "we shall set out for the field soon after five in the morning. I will have the dueling pistols loaded and ready. Now, go back to your wife and make Mother happy."

"I should like to watch the duel," put in the queen mother.

"Not you too?" asked Sherlock incredulously. "Molly already insisted that she come as well, although I said she ought to stay well away."

"Well of course she did," said the elderly woman without surprise. "She wishes to be with her husband, rather than just await news. I do not blame her. I will stand with her."

"It is all arranged then. Thank you Mycroft. I shall see you in the morning. Good night, Mother."

"I will have a servant call you at fifteen minutes before five in the morning."

Sherlock nodded. He shook Mycroft's hand and kissed his mother's cheek, then return to his wife's bedchamber.

He knocked on the door and called out softly to her, then waited for her to come and unlock it. When she did her eyes were heavy from sleep. She had put on a diaphanous nightgown to cover her nakedness as she opened the door, but it did little to disguise her curves and he was instantly aware that he desired her again. He closed and locked the door behind him, then picked her up in his arms and strode to the bed, laying her gently upon it.

"It is all arranged then...for tomorrow?" she asked, with a note of fear in her voice.

"Yes, my darling," he told her, as he undressed himself, anxious to be back in bed with her. "Now, let us have no more talk of the morning. For now, I just wish to concentrate on you and make love to you."

He began to kiss his wife passionately, wanting to distract her, and himself, from the impending duel. Her nightgown soon joined his clothes on the floor and he kissed his way along her body, delighting in the little moans of pleasure that came from her mouth. He kissed her shoulders, her breasts, her flat stomach, thrilling at her essence, her sweetness until she was gasping for him and crying out, her body convulsing with pleasure from his ministrations. Only then did Sherlock take her for his own once again, loving her, making love to her, until he too reached his own fulfillment in the arms of the woman he loved.

As she lay encircled in his arms and their breathing slowly returned to normal, he kissed her brow. "My precious, wonderful wife. How is it you are real? You evoke such passion within me, it is indescribable."

"You do the same for me, Sherlock. I never dreamed how wonderful it could be to be loved by a man. You are so perfect, in every way."

Sherlock felt his heart swell with love and pride that she felt that way, that he could make her feel that way.

They lay there contentedly for a time, until he said, "By the way, my darling, we were right about my mother. She was instrumental in bringing this about, our marriage I mean. She told me she realized I loved you and she did everything she could to push us together and ensure that we could be happy."

"I will have to thank her," the princess murmured sleepily.

"She will be attending in the morning as well and you can stand together. We will be awoken at a quarter to five, as I must be downstairs by five. You should make sure your lady's maid is ready to dress you. You do not need to come quite as early, the duel is to be at five-thirty. So call her when I get up."

"I will do that," agreed his wife.

He kissed her once again and they slept, entwined in each other's arms.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Finally, the proof that the queen mother was pulling the strings all along.

The duel approaches. Any guesses on what you think will happen?


	30. A Hazard of Hearts

Thanks VictorianLady79 for beta'ing.

* * *

A knock sounded on the door to the princess's bedchamber.

"Your Highnesses, the time is a quarter to five and I was informed I should awaken you," came the voice of a manservant whom Molly had not heard before. She had woken at the sound of the knock and was immediately struck with a sense of dread.

The prince opened his eyes and called back, "Thank you. I am awake and will be downstairs soon."

Molly clutched at her husband convulsively. She was still in his arms and she pressed herself against him. "Do not go," she begged. "Please, Sherlock. If anything happened to you I should want to die."

He kissed her forehead. "Everything will be fine, my darling. My father taught me very well how to shoot, despite the fact that I had no desire to learn. I will wing your stepfather and he will return to Bartonia in disgrace."

"And then he will take it out on my mother," she returned, fearfully.

"That will not happen, my precious. Mycroft has seen to it that he shall be held accountable for his actions in future. If he does anything to hurt your mother he will be exposed as the beast he is, with the abuse you have sustained at his hands as well as your mother and countless others, I suspect. His reputation will be beyond repair. He would not dare to touch your mother from this point onwards."

Princess Molly breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God. It was that which I feared most and now your brother has done something so wonderful for us. I must thank him."

"Believe me, Molly, he is thankful to you for having saved him from the necessity of being married. Now my mother is content to let me be the father of the future king of Bakeristan."

"I do not care about that. I just want you to be the father to my children," she said passionately, covering his face with kisses. He held her for a moment longer then said reluctantly. "I must get dressed, my love. When you come to the field, be careful and stay out of sight. I have no wish for your stepfather to see you."

He got up from the bed as he spoke and Molly looked at him imploringly. "I can't help being fearful for you. Please be careful. I wish there was something I could do..."

"There is, my darling," said Sherlock unexpectedly. "You can pray. Your prayers were answered for us to be together, so they must be reaching God's ears. I am sure they will do so again. Now you should call for your lady's maid."

Molly obediently pulled on the bell rope to summon Kaitlyn. "I will pray with all my heart that you shall be safe," she told her husband with tears in her eyes.

Once the prince was dressed, he came over to her and put his hands on either side of her face. "Do not cry, my darling, everything will turn out for the best. I promise you." With that he kissed her tenderly, then left the bedchamber.

As Molly waited for her lady's maid to arrive, she closed her eyes and prayed fervently, "Please God, let Sherlock be safe. Please help him. Don't let him die, I know You brought us to each other, you must have had a purpose in that. Please God, save my husband." She felt her prayer winging its way toward heaven and could only hope that it was answered in the affirmative.

Kaitlyn arrived and the princess spoke to her as she prepared to find a dress.

"I need the plainest gown you can find, Kaitlyn, preferably in a colour that is not bright so I can be less conspicuous. Are you aware of what is happening?"

"Yes, Your Highness," responded the lady's maid. "Prince Culverton's valet was boasting in the servant's quarters that your stepfather was going to shoot your husband. He seemed quite certain of it, I am sorry to say."

Molly gasped. "I always disliked that man. Magnussen has been with my stepfather for many years, and I fear he is as bad as his master. I always felt certain he was the one who told my stepfather about the healing salve my mother procured for me. Evil snake of a man."

"He most certainly is," agreed Kaitlyn. "I had to deal with him in the carriage on our way here. I heard him boast of how Prince Culverton had several times killed men in duels. It does not seem right. Are not duels supposed to be matters of honour, where one man just wounds the other?"

The princess's face drained of color. "I have a terrible feeling Kaitlyn, that my stepfather intends to somehow kill Sherlock, not just wound him. But how would that be possible?"

"I do not know," responded the lady's maid. "You must just be vigilant and watch your stepfather as they get ready to duel. I would not put it past him to try something untoward. Now here, I have found a simple grey muslin morning gown for you. Let me help you put it on, so you can go downstairs."

Numbly Princess Molly allowed Kaitlyn to dress her. Her thoughts were whirling and she had the distinct feeling that Prince Culverton would indeed try to do something to kill Sherlock at any cost. She had always thought the man slightly unhinged, and it was quite possible that he may have become completely unbalanced once he discovered the news that he had been made a fool of. He had seemed full of rage the previous day, in daring to whip her in her husband's presence. She shifted her shoulders at the remembrance. Fortunately, the blow had not been as hard as usual, and the salve Sherlock had put on her skin had eased the pain so well, it was feeling significantly better. She had not even thought about it when they had been making love, she had been too caught up in their shared passion.

When the princess was ready, she made her way down the staircase to the front hall. The queen mother was already standing there, soberly gowned in her own grey attire. She kissed the princess's cheek. "Do not fear child, Sherlock was taught well by his father. He will be triumphant in this."

They began to walk together towards the field, following a footman. "I am fearful though," confessed Molly. "My stepfather's valet, Magnussen, has boasted that his master has killed people in duels before."

The queen mother looked at her daughter-in-law in astonishment. "Surely that can not be so? Duels are a matter of honour in all countries and not intended to be fought to the death. How could your step-father have caused anyone's death?"

"I do not know. I only know it is what I have heard."

"Well," said the elderly woman in a hard tone, "if that man does anything to harm, or kill my son, I shall personally have him sent to prison or even better, executed."

The women arrived at a vantage point near some stacks of hay, from which they could watch the proceedings without being observed themselves.

All the participants were already there. Sherlock and his friend John as his second, Prince Culverton with Magnussen as his second, and the police chief Lestrade, as well as the king.

Molly's heart felt like it was coming out of her chest, not in a good way now, but a very bad way as she felt once again dread wash over her. She knew the two men were to stand together back to back, then at the count of ten paces they would turn and fire. Her hands clenched together as she watched the two men stand together as directed - Sherlock looking proud and handsome as always, Prince Culverton with an evil smile up on his face.

The king began to count as the men walked away from each other, "One...two...three...four...five...six...seven..."

As king Mycroft said the word, Molly, who had been watching her stepfather, rather than her husband, noticed a slight flicker of movement. The foreign prince was raising his arms.

As King Mycroft said "Eight," Molly suddenly realized what her stepfather intended to do.

She screamed in terror,"Sherlock!"

Sherlock stopped and turned to the side to see where she was calling from. It was at that moment that Prince Culverton fired, obviously having expected to shoot the prince in the back to kill him.

Even as the princess watched in horror, she heard the report of the gun, then saw her husband collapse.

Immediately Lestrade rushed over to the foreign prince and wrestled the gun from his hand.

Molly though had eyes only for Sherlock as she rushed towards him, tears streaming down her face. The queen mother was right behind her, and the king was walking towards his brother.

Molly reached Sherlock first and saw a red stain spreading on his white shirt from the top of his shoulder. For a horrible moment she thought he was dead, then she noticed his breath rising and falling shallowly. She realized then that the blood staining his shirt was much too high for the bullet to have entered his chest, and was comforted.

Dr. John Watson came up then and ordered, "Molly, I need some room. Let me take a look at him. We will need people to carry him back to the castle immediately."

"I will do that," said the queen mother, hurrying off.

Molly stood close to Sherlock as the doctor examined him.

Prince Culverton had been restrained by Lestrade and King Mycroft joined him. Magnussen, the valet, merely stood by uncertain of what to do.

Molly noticed all that was happening from the corner of her eye, but her main focus was her husband.

"Molly, can you pull off any material from your petticoats so we can staunch the flow of blood?"

The princess forced herself to listen to John, even though she felt very close to fainting herself. "Yes, yes," she responded, reaching downwards and frantically tugging at a seam of the fabric of her petticoat. Finally, it gave way and she was able to rip off a strip of petticoat to give the doctor.

He took it without a word and pressed it to Sherlock's shoulder. Thankfully that seemed to be the entry point of the bullet.

"If Sherlock had not turned when you screamed Molly, he would most certainly be dead. Apparently that was Smith's intention, the wound is at the height of his neck." He cast an angry glance in the direction of the restrained prince.

It wasn't long before several men came hurrying from the castle. The queen mother had obviously solicited the help of as many as possible so that some could also keep an eye on the foreign prince who was now babbling.

"He deserved to die, that young pup. He stole away Amelia from the king. I was supposed to be father-in-law to the king. He ruined everything for me. He deserves to die!"

Smith's voice rose as he spoke, the last words coming in a snarl of hatred. Molly knew then that the man was certainly insane. Inspector Lestrade obviously agreed, because he remarked. "It won't be the prison for you, Smith, it will be the asylum."

Molly heard what was going on around her as if from far away. Her main focus was on her husband. Dr. Watson had wadded up the petticoat strip and placed it on the wound. Fortunately Sherlock was not aware of what was happening, or he would have been in extreme pain. The shock of the bullet hitting him followed by his fall onto the ground had left him unconscious.

"Will he...will he live?" she asked John, trying to control the tears that still flowed. She could not prevent the sob that manifested itself in her words.

"He's a strong man, Molly, and it is not a fatal area for a bullet wound. He'll pull through. But I must try and remove the bullet as soon as we return to the castle, or the wound will become infected. It has become lodged in the tip of his shoulder. If the bullet remains, he could die from the infection instead. Pray heaven he does not awaken while I am removing it."

Six men came up then, and John instructed them on how to carry the young prince so he was immobilized as much as possible, and they processed slowly back to the castle, Molly following right behind.

Prince Culverton in the meantime was taken away by Lestrade and three other men. Magnussen, with nothing to do, also returned to the castle along with the King, head cast downwards in an obvious attitude of shame.

The queen mother was waiting just inside the front entrance. She directed the men holding Sherlock to his bedchamber.

Molly followed the doctor, but was instructed to not come into the prince's bedchamber, because he did not wish her to have to deal with the sight of the wound. The princess, however, refused to listen to his command.

"I am not leaving my husband," she said bravely.

"In that case, we must remove his shirt so I can tend to removing the bullet."

The men who had carried the Prince upstairs left and only Molly and John remained.

"I need to get my medical bag and strips of linen for the wound, as well as cloth to make a sling," Dr. Watson told her, as he left the room briefly.

Molly perched at the edge of the bed and looked at her husband. He was so pale, and the blood was beginning to seep through the petticoat strips she had given the doctor. She took Sherlock's hand, willing him to be okay, to come back to her.

The doctor was soon back in the bedchamber with the needed supplies.

"Molly, do you think you can help me with this?" He asked. "If not, I will find someone else. I need to remove the bullet. That means I must use a medical instrument and probe inside the wound for the bullet. Undoubtedly that will cause an increase in the bleeding. I need you to be ready to press the linen strips to the wound as soon as I have retrieved the bullet."

"I...I will do it," she told him. She had to be the one to help. It was her fault he had been shot, after all. It was her stepfather who had done the deed.

John Watson probed the site of the wound, finding the bullet in a short amount of time. After he pulled the object out, he swiftly irrigated the open wound with a saline solution, after which Molly placed the prepared linens over the wound which was once again bleeding profusely.

"Keep pressure on it," instructed the doctor, and the princess obeyed. Her heart almost skipped a beat when Sherlock suddenly emitted a slight cry of pain. Then his eyes opened.

"Molly?" he said thickly, as if he had a mouth full of cotton.

"Don't speak, my love," she told him, continuing to apply pressure on the linens. "You must rest."

Sherlock shook his head slightly. "What...what happened?"

"That bastard tried to shoot you before your brother had finished counting," interposed John. "If Molly had not screamed and diverted your attention, the bullet would have killed you through your neck most certainly. That man is clearly insane."

Sherlock had closed his eyes again, and was obviously in pain by the expression on his face. Molly's heart ached for him. His dark hair was such a contrast to his pale skin.

John prepared a sling to go over the prince's other shoulder and around his arm. It would keep that side of his body immobilized so the wound would not reopen.

Once the wound was dressed properly, the doctor said. "I expect you would like some breakfast. Why don't you go downstairs and I will watch Sherlock for now."

"I will not leave my husband," she told the doctor firmly. "I will eat if someone sends food up here, but I refuse to leave him alone. He needs me."

"Very well, Molly. I should warn you though - Sherlock will likely run a fever tonight, or even longer, as his body fights off any infection. He will require care around the clock. I suggest you alternate shifts with your mother-in-law. She is as worried about him as you are, but has been giving you time to be with him alone. She told me so when I went to pick up my medical bag and the supplies. She's a very good woman and she loves her son very much."

"I understand," replied the princess. "Of course she should be here also."

"Good, I will go downstairs now and arrange to have food brought up for you, as well as cloths and water for you to use on Sherlock's forehead and body if he runs a fever. I will also tell the queen mother she can come and see him."

"Thank you for everything you have done, John," said Princess Molly sincerely. "If you had not been here..."

"Thank God I was," he said, before leaving the room.

Once the doctor had exited, Molly offered up a prayer of thankfulness. She moved to place a kiss on her husband's forehead, and noticed his face was no longer pale. In fact, he was starting to feel warm. He opened his eyes once more, but they were unfocussed and soon, he drifted off to sleep.

Molly remained by his side for the next two days, taking turns with the queen mother. Sherlock did indeed run a raging fever, and at times Molly was fearful he would never get better. She and the queen mother cooled his body constantly with cloths and finally, on the third day, the prince awoke properly for the first time. His fever had finally broken the previous night.

"Molly," he croaked and she went to him.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Was the duel what you expected? Are you happy Culverton Smith was carted off, or does he deserve a worse punishment?

Feedback on my work is much appreciated.


	31. Look, Listen and Love

Thanks VictorianLady79 for beta'ing.

* * *

Sherlock woke and was for a moment disoriented. Then in a flash, everything from the past days came back to him - meeting the princess, falling in love with her. He remembered their desperation in wishing to be together, although she was supposed to be his brother's future queen. Then he recalled the way his mother had been the one instrumental in working things out for him, and the wedding that followed. He remembered two nights of perfect passion with his bride and finally, the duel.

His last clear recollection was that of feeling a searing pain in his shoulder. The pain had been so intense, it had caused him to pass out. The only thing he had vague memories of since then were of soft hands pressing cooling cloths to his forehead and body as he thrashed about in feverish delirium, and the sound of sweet voices, those of his mother and wife.

Now, as he woke, he could feel an ache where the bullet had undoubtedly pierced his body, but it was not too intense. What he wanted - needed, was to see his wife.

"Molly?" he asked. His voice came out more like a croak, as if he had not had anything to drink in some time and his throat was parched.

He heard a swish of petticoats and turned his head towards it. His heart gave a great leap when Molly's anxious face came into view.

"Sherlock!" she exclaimed, "You are awake!"

"How long..." he cleared his throat. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"Don't talk, darling. Let me fetch you some water, and then I shall explain."

She moved over to his nightstand where he could see a jug of water and a glass, which she filled. She bent towards him and offered the glass, which he took with his hand that was not impeded by the sling. "More, please," he entreated, after gulping down the contents thirstily. Molly refilled the glass and he drank half its contents before heaving a sigh of relief.

He repeated his earlier question in a more normal tone. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"It has been just over two days, my love. My stepfather tried to kill you by turning early to shoot you in the neck. I saw his hand moving, and I screamed."

"I remember," he answered. Her scream had caused him to halt his forward movement and face sideways, looking for her. "I presume my turning towards you is what saved me?" His hand with the glass trembled slightly as he thought of how close he had come to dying.

Molly took the glass from his hand and set it back on the bedside table before answering. "John said it was that which saved you - your turning sideways, I mean." She put her hand out towards his free one.

His hand clasped her small one tightly. "You saved my life, Molly. If you had not been there, had not warned me, I wouldn't be here now. Thank God you were."

"See, I told you God is real. You cannot dispute there was a higher power at work, especially when you look at how things have fallen into place for us."

The prince smiled fondly at his wife. "I know you are right. For so long I thought God was just a ludicrous fantasy, created by the weak-minded, but I know that not to be the case now. Certainly no coincidence could have ordered things for us this way. I stand corrected, my sweet, and I know it is your faith and prayers that have helped me to see that. Remember - I did ask you to pray for me."

"I am glad you understand, my love. Now, I must go and tell your mother that you are awake and have someone send for John. He will want to examine you, now that you are awake."

His hand tightened around hers as he asked, "Before you leave, my precious, may I just have one kiss from you? My lips are in sudden need of yours upon them."

Princess Molly giggled, then leaned her head down, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. Before she could pull away, he drew his hand from hers in order to move it behind her neck so he could prolong the embrace, feeling that familiar warmth spread through him at the feel of her sweetness. He groaned a little when he realized other parts of his body were responding to her as well, knowing his current condition would make it impossible for them to make love for some time. He supposed that was a question he would have to pose to his doctor friend. For now though, he contented himself with just the feel of her lips.

When finally they parted for air, they were both struggling a little with their breathing, and he could see that his wife was just as affected as he was.

"I...I had better go now," she told him and got off the bed to find his mother.

Within ten minutes the queen mother came bustling in. "Sherlock, my dear," she said, kissing his forehead, "I have been so worried for you. Thank God you are finally awake. We have sent to the village for Dr. Watson."

"Where did my wife go? Why did she not return to the room with you?"

"I told her to get changed and get some rest. She has been up almost the entire time you were unconscious, Sherlock, except when I could convince her she needed some sleep herself or she would be too exhausted to tend to you when you woke. Would you like something to eat? I am sure you must be very hungry by now."

Suddenly, the prince realized he was indeed extremely hungry. "Yes, Mother, I would very much like something to eat, but I would also like my wife to remain with me, especially once John arrives to examine me. Can you not see that we are both brought up some food here to my bedchamber, so that we might eat together?"

"Oh, very well," huffed his mother, a little impatiently. She pulled the bell rope to summon the prince's valet. "One would think you were a man just married by the way you are feeling such a need to be with your wife." Then she chuckled. "It is hard to believe - my son, a married man. I certainly hope your first two nights together were enough to ensure my first grandchild."

"Mother!" said the prince in a shocked tone. "How can you speak in such an indelicate manner?"

"One of the benefits of old age, my dear. The elderly can always say what they want, and get away with it." She gave her son a decidedly not elderly, impudent grin.

"Nonetheless, I certainly hope you will refrain from such comments in the presence of my wife."

"Ha!" retorted his mother. "My daughter-in-law has already expressed her hopes to me that you may have already gotten her with child. It seems she is as anxious to bear your children as I am to be a grandmother."

Prince Sherlock could feel himself redden. He hoped Molly had not discussed the intimate details of their time in the marriage bed. It seemed that women were more open to discussing such matters than he thought.

Wiggins appeared in the doorway shortly thereafter, and the queen mother instructed the young man to have some food brought up on trays for the prince and princess. Then she went next door to find the princess in her bedchamber.

Only a few minutes later, Molly came into the room through the communicating door. She was wearing a nightgown as she had obviously been preparing to take her rest. The nightgown did nothing to hide her feminine curves and was rather revealing, and the prince caught his breath at it. She was so lovely, but he did not want her body on display for anyone else.

"Come into bed beside me, my love," he instructed her, and she obeyed, somewhat shyly. She had not been in his bed before and it was larger than her own. She was so far away from him he had to say, "Come closer, my darling, I do not bite."

She slid her body closer to his, but still left some room between them.

"Why are you not beside me?" he complained, feeling somewhat frustrated at his wife's hesitancy.

"I...I am trying not to tempt you. John told me, when last we spoke, that I must not do anything that would cause you to injure yourself further." She blushed.

Sherlock reached out his hand to tug on hers, to bring her in closer. "Just being in the same room with you tempts me, my love. If I must be so tempted, I would prefer to at least be able to have you close by me so I may kiss you. Now come, sit close beside me so we can eat together when our food is brought up. What happened to my mother? Is she returning?"

"No, she said she would take her luncheon downstairs and be back to see you this evening, after the doctor has come and you have rested."

Just then a knock sounded at the door and Wiggins entered with two trays.

"Just a moment," said the princess, assisting Sherlock to a more upright position, propping up pillows behind his head.

Prince Sherlock winced a little as the movement caused some pain in his shoulder, and Molly looked at him in concern. "It's fine, my love," he assured her. "Merely a twinge as I shifted position."

Wiggins set the trays upon their laps and exited, saying he would return in a half hour to remove them.

The prince and princess did justice to the fine fare of the castle chef, who had outdone himself in making a superlative luncheon. There was wine for Sherlock, and milk for the princess.

When the prince looked at her inquiringly over her beverage, she said shyly. "I did not want to take any chances...in case I am with child."

"How soon would you know?" he asked curiously.

"My bleeding has been very regular, on a 28 day cycle," responded his wife, blushing. "If it does not come within 12 days, it may mean I am with child. I am...hopeful. Your mother told me that a child is usually conceived at around two weeks before the bleeding." She blushed again.

The prince looked at his wife tenderly. "I wish we could have made love more, to increase our chances for a baby, but as soon as I am well enough, we will make up for lost time. How does that sound?"

"I'd like that very much, Sherlock. I like the way you...touch me, the way you make me feel when we are together that way." This time, instead of blushing, she gave him a coquettish look from under her lashes, to which his body instantly responded.

"Ah, do not say such things to me right now, or I shall be in a constant state of discomfort. Curse that Prince Culverton!" Then he realized he had no idea what had happened after he had been shot. "Where is your stepfather now? Is he in prison?"

"No," responded his wife. "He has been taken to Sherrinford Asylum. After he failed at killing you, he showed himself to be quite mad by what he said. Inspector Lestrade had him sent there immediately."

"That is good. My sister Eurus is also at Sherrinford Asylum. I must take you to visit her as soon as I am well. It has already been a month since my last visit. Although she does not talk, I am sure she understands what is going on when I speak to her, as well as play my violin."

"So you do speak to her as well?" asked the princess in an interested tone.

"Yes indeed," assured the prince. "I have always spoken to her of my scientific interests. Mycroft speaks of the latest things happening in Bakeristan. We feel it keeps her grounded in reality somewhat. I should like to let her know I am married."

"I would like to meet her too," said the princess with a smile.

After Wiggins had taken away their luncheon trays, Dr. Watson arrived to examine the prince.

"I am glad to see you are awake, Sherlock," he said, with a warm smile at his friend. "Mary and I have been worried about you."

"Tell your wife I am doing fine, and to just concentrate on taking care of your baby. I have not seen your Rosamund in months. Is she well?"

The doctor beamed. "She has two teeth now. It is most frustrating for Mary, who says she has bitten her several times whilst suckling."

Sherlock glanced at his wife, whose hand had crept into his beneath the covers, where she still sat close beside him. He knew she was thinking about what it would be like to have their own baby suckling at her breast. He thought that would be a most wondrous sight indeed.

"Well, I suppose I should examine you now," pronounced the doctor, dispensing with the casual conversation. "Molly, do you wish to remain? I must re-dress your husband's wound, and it may cause him some distress."

"I wish to stay,"

"Very well." John proceeded to remove the sling, then the linen cloths over the prince's wound. "You are bloody lucky, Sherlock," he said. "If Molly hadn't screamed when she did..."

"I know," agreed the prince, wincing at the discomfort he felt again. To distract himself, he turned to his wife and asked, "What made you think to keep an eye on your stepfather, rather than watch me?"

"It was something Kaitlyn told me. When she was travelling here in the coach with my step-father's valet, he apparently boasted to her about the way his master had killed several men in duels in the past. It roused my suspicions that my stepfather might be doing something untoward in these duels, in order to cause death, rather than to just hurt the other man. So I was watching him, and when your brother said 'seven,' I saw my stepfather begin to move his arm and turn, so I screamed."

"That was clever of you my love...ow!" he exclaimed suddenly in pain, as Dr. Watson cleansed his wound. "Have a bloody care, John! I'd like to recover as soon as possible, rather than stay abed for weeks on end."

"If I cannot cleanse the wound properly, infection may yet set in, so stop complaining like a child and allow me to do my work," responded John crossly.

Sherlock would have responded in a cross tone as well, but his wife's squeeze on his hand told him he should be patient and let his friend do what needed to be done.

It was about ten minutes before John had re-dressed the wound and assisted the prince to lay back again in the bed. "You should both rest," he instructed the newlyweds. "But don't you two get up to anything that would cause further injury."

The prince rolled his eyes. "Yes, Doctor Watson," he stressed the 'doctor.' "How long will it be before this wound has healed and is no longer prone to bleeding?"

"If you remain in bed as much as possible, just a few days."

Prince Sherlock groaned. "I must remain in bed? That is tiresome."

"I'm sure your wife will be happy to keep you company in the bed. You are on your honeymoon, after all."

"Yes, and unable to do much about that," huffed Sherlock.

"Better that than dead, my friend. I'll be back to check on you tomorrow," replied John, with a smile, before taking his medical bag and leaving.

"Alone at last, my sweet," said Sherlock, looking longingly at Molly, wishing he could make love to her the way he wished. Instead he said, "Molly, let us sleep now, come as close as you can, so I feel your warmth."

Satisfactorily, his wife pressed herself close to him as he lifted his right arm, to allow her head to rest on his good shoulder, and they fell asleep that way.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Did you spot the canon words Sherlock made about his former dismissal of God? If you don't believe in God, I have to tell you, you might not wsnt to read my stories, because most of them will mention God at some point. I won't avoid the topic, just so I don't offend readers. I would rather cause offense than compromise my beliefs to increase my readership base. If that means people don't read or leave feedback to support my work, that's fine. I will continue to thank and appreciate those who do find value in it and respond accordingly.

Did you enjoy the conversation between Sherlock and John? Do you think Molly might be pregnant?


	32. A Royal Love Match

The next few days passed slowly for the newlyweds. In that time, King Mycroft visited his brother several times to check on his progress. He also showed his brother the latest editions of the Bakeristan Bugle. Princess Molly read aloud to her husband the news of their marriage, which had quickly spread. Public sentiment had been very positive for the young couple, evenif a few interviewees confessed to being surprised that the betrothal ball had been for the prince and not the king.

News of the foreign prince's perfidy had also come out, and the fact that he had been taken to Sherrinford Asylum rather than imprisoned.

Princess Molly was very pleased at this development, because she knew her mother would now be safe. Magnussen, Prince Culverton's valet had been sent back to Bartonia in disgrace, without a reference.

Dr. Watson came every day to redress Prince Sherlock's wound. On the fifth day, he pronounced that Sherlock no longer needed the sling to immobilize his arm in order to prevent the shoulder movement.

Molly remained at her husband's side as much as possible, refusing to leave him, even for meals. On this day she received a letter from her mother, and told Sherlock about it as she sat on the bed next to where he lay propped up on pillows.

"Sherlock, my mother will be coming to visit us in a few days," she exclaimed happily. "Of course, she feels she must also visit with my stepfather, out of duty."

The prince shook his head. "I'm not sure that's wise. From what I hear, yiur stepfather continues to talk about me and how he wishes he had killed me. It's like he can't stop confessing about what he did."

"Well, my mother is determined to visit him. I think she actually wants to finally tell him how she feels about what he has put her through. Of course, she also wants to meet her son-in-law." The princess smiled lovingly at her husband. "She sent this letter as soon as news of our marriage reached Bartonia. I had already told her in a letter that we were in love, and that you planned to speak to your brother, so the news was not as much a shock as it would otherwise have been."

"I will look forward to meeting the woman who gave life to the most perfect woman in the world," declared the prince, pulling his wife down onto him and holding her close, kissing her hungrily.

Molly responded enthusiastically, still being careful to stay away from her husband's wound. Moving his arm caused pain in his shoulder, so his mobility was still very limited, despite the lack of sling.

Some minutes later, the prince reluctantly released his hold on his wife. "Once your mother arrives, we will arrange a visit to the asylum. It will be a good opportunity for me to introduce you to my sister as well."

"Thank you, Sherlock. I would appreciate that very much," responded the princess. She was excited at the thought of her mother's impending arrival and the idea of introducing the queen to her handsome husband.

Another four days passed. The queen of Bartonia was due to arrive and Molly was almost beside herself with anticipation. It was also rather momentous because for the first time, the doctor had announced that the prince was recovered enough to get out of bed and dress, so that he would be on hand to greet his mother-in-law.

When an outrider arrived at the castle to announce the queen's impending arrival, Prince Sherlock was already dressed. Molly had helped him to put on his clothes, rather than his valet. Although he still had a bandage to cover his wound, it was now more to prevent chafing, rather than to aid in the healing process.

Dr. Watson had proclaimed proudly that he had never seen anyone heal faster than the prince, whose mobility had almost been restored. Most exciting though for the prince and princess was the news that he considered the prince well enough to recommence marital activities, if he were careful. The newlyweds were therefore looking forward to more than the queen's visit.

King Mycroft had arranged an impressive royal guard to be present for the queen's arrival. He was waiting with Prince Sherlock beside him, and this time the princess was also waiting. Even the queen mother had decided to meet the entourage from Bartonia.

When the royal carriage arrived, Princess Molly could hardly contain her excitement. She had dearly missed her mother. She clutched at the prince's hand in her excitement, and he looked at her indulgently, understanding how momentous an occasion this was for her.

Queen Ruth stepped out of the carriage, looking regal and much younger than she had done since the death of her beloved husband David. Molly saw that she was now walking proud and tall, unlike in the cowed manner she had adopted since her marriage to Culverton Smith.

She walked slowly to King Mycroft, who bowed over her hand and said, "Welcome, Queen Ruth. It is an honour to make your acquaintance. I hope you are not offended at the turn of events that has occurred. I know that your daughter was supposed to be the queen, and now she retains the same title instead."

Queen Ruth smiled warmly at the king. "All I have ever wanted is my daughter's happiness. I am vastly grateful that you were kind enough to release her from her impending betrothal to yiu so that she could marry your brother."

"It is of benefit to me as well. I have never been anxious to marry myself, but was going to do my duty to the kingdom. I am quite delighted to relinquish that to my brother," King Mycroft responded with a smile. "And without further ado, may I present my brother, your son-in-law, Prince William..." at Sherlock's baleful gaze, he corrected this with a hasty, "who prefers to use his second name, Sherlock."

Prince Sherlock released Molly's hand to take the queen's hand and raise it to his lips. "It is an honour to meet you, Your Majesty. I congratulate you on having a daughter who is not only beautiful, but intelligent as well."

He released the queen's hand and then Molly stepped forward to be encircled into her mother's embrace.

Tears came into both the women's eyes as the princess said, "Mama, I missed you! I am so glad you are here. I know you will get along well with my husband's mother. She is the one who put everything into motion for Sherlock and me to be together, when she realized we had developed a regard for one another."

The two older women introduced themselves to each other, and it was obvious they would get along very well, as both were strong women who loved their children very much.

The procession went inside the castle, the two mothers chatting amiably as they did so. Queen Ruth, who had travelled with her lady's maid in the same carriage, unlike the way the Bartonian prince had insisted upon the servants travelling separately, were shown the bedchamber in which the visiting queen was to sleep. This was the one adjoining the bedchamber that had been used by Prince Culverton.

King Mycroft had ordered a delayed luncheon in order to give the queen time to change out of her travelling garments.

When everyone was assembled in the dining hall, it was a much different atmosphere than it had been when the foreign prince had been present.

Both King Mycroft and Prince Sherlock went out of their way to be charming to the women, especially Queen Ruth, who was touched by their courtesy. She was especially delighted with her new son-in-law, however.

Sherlock was seated beside his wife and, because she was to his right, he was able to touch her hand constantly, and whisper in her ear. Molly could not help but blush at his murmured compliments to her, and the way he flirted with her quietly as they ate, making his intentions for later that evening quite clear.

At one point, King Mycroft made a comment about "newlyweds" which caused the young couple to blush and the older women to laugh delightedly.

At the conclusion of the meal, Queen Ruth asked if she could have a few minutes alone with her daughter. The Bakeristan natives soon left, and the mother and daughter were alone.

"I was terribly worried when I got your letter about falling in love with the prince,"commented the older woman. "I prayed, as you asked me to. When I saw the announcement of your marriage I knew my prayers had been answered."

"I am so sorry you could not be here, Mama, but King Mycroft said time was of the essence. He felt that Step-Papa would try to seek legal counsel if Sherlock and I were not wed immediately."

"So, please, my dearest, tell me what happened. One moment you were asking for prayer, the next you are happily married. Did King Mycroft do as his brother asked? And where was yiur stepfather in all this?"

The Princess explained to her mother how the queen mother had arranged things to make sure her son was able to be happy once she realized he was in love. She explained also about the sleeping draught that had been given to Prince Culverton so he would not cause trouble at the ball.

Finally she told her mother about the duel. "Mama, he planned to kill Sherlock. He turned early in order to shoot him in the neck, but I screamed when I saw what was about to happen, and my husband turned so he was only wounded instead of killed. Then my stepfather went completely mad, saying Sherlock deserved to die."

"When I saw in the papers that he had been apprehended in Bakeristan and sent to an asylum, I wondered what had happened. Nothing was said of a duel, just that he had made an attempt on the prince's life."

"Sherlock has promised we will go soon to visit the asylum. He has a sister there as well, whom he visits. She has been there since she was a young child."

"Oh, how sad," said the queen sympathetically. "I am glad he will take me there, though. Will it be soon?"

"I am sure he will make every effort to make arrangements as soon as possible. He has been recovering from the pistol wound these past 11 days."

"When did the duel happen? How did it even come about?"

Step-Papa found the prince in my bed the morning after the wedding." Molly blushed. "He struck me with a whip, which Sherlock then took from him, and then my stepfather demanded a duel of honour for being made to look like a fool. So a duel was arranged for the following morning."

"My poor child, you have had to deal with such terrible things as a newlywed."

At that moment the queen mother returned to the dining hall. "Queen Ruth, would you like to see the castle once you have finished speaking with your daughter? I would much enjoy getting better acquainted with you, now that we are family."

"I would be delighted," exclaimed the Bartonian queen. To her daughter she said, "I expect you would like to return to your husband now. I am glad we had some time to talk about things."

"Yes, Mama," responded the princess, kissing her mother's cheek. She left the dining hall. As she exited she could just make out her mother-in-law saying, "I am hopeful we may soon become grandmothers."

Molly blushed although there was nobody to see her, and hurried to her bedchamber.

To her surprise, her husband was comfortably situated on her bed, apparently waiting for her.

"Why are you sitting on my bed?" she inquired.

"Waiting for you," he responded. "I feel we should have a rest this afternoon, before dinner. I have summoned your lady's maid. She should be here any moment to help you undress for bed."

"But I am not tired."

He got off the bed and came towards her, putting his arm around her. "Who said anything about sleeping?" he inquired, and the look in his eyes made her quiver, just before he set his lips to hers and kissed her until the room spun about her. It was only the sound of the door being opened that caused them to cease their embrace.

"Come to me when you are ready," instructed the prince in a low voice. "Wiggins is waiting to also help me take off these clothes, to prevent further chafing of my shoulder."

He left the room via the communicating door.

"You wish to take a rest, Your Highness?" inquired Kaitlyn.

"My husband has so requested it," smiled Molly, as she felt colour rising in her cheeks once more.

"I have the feeling your husband does not plan to rest very much," the lady's maid said with a wink. "I will fetch your most alluring nightgown, shall I?"

Molly nodded shyly, and soon was dressed in a fine, diaphanous nightgown that hid nothing of her lovely figure.

"Enjoy your - rest," the lady's maid said, before departing.

Then Princess Molly made her way to the communicating door and through it, to join her waiting husband.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Are you intrigued at the thought of the upcoming visit to the asylum? Were you glad to see Molly reunited with her mother?

If you can spare a moment to leave a review, thank you. They always make me smile and keep me motivated to continue feeding my creative muse :)


	33. Love is Heaven

Prince Sherlock's heart leapt at the sight of his wife entering his bedchamber. He had desperately missed being with her, after having only had two days of intimacy before he had been wounded. Excitement surged through him as she walked towards him shyly, her body displayed quite pleasingly through her almost transparent night gown.

"You look exquisite, my love," he told her, patting the bed beside him. He had already pulled down the covers so she could join him.

As soon as she slid into the bed and pulled the covers up, he pulled her towards his body.

Molly gave a little gasp of surprise. "You're naked!" she exclaimed.

Sherlock chuckled. "I could hardly make love to you if I was clothed now, could I?"

His wife blushed adorably. "I have been longing to be with you like that again."

"You will have to help me, though," he said, just before his lips came down on hers. He plundered her mouth, tasting, teasing its recesses in a way he had not dared to do since he had been hurt. He had been careful to keep himself in check, knowing his body's restrictions. Now though, he just wanted to kiss her over and over, showing with his mouth and hands how much he had missed the sweetness of her body, how she excited him.

He moved his lips downwards to trail kisses toward her throat and rapidly beating pulse, even as she asked somewhat breathlessly, "In what way must I help you?"

He moved his left arm gingerly, experimentally. His shoulder was feeling much better, but he was not sure he could support his weight on it. He could, however, use it enough to touch his wife's body. So he did so, as he explained, "When we make love, you will have to be the one in control, my love. My shoulder is not quite up to the exertion of holding myself above you."

Molly looked at him curiously. "Then how can we make love?"

"I am told there are many positions one can try. For now, you will have to come to me, be above me."

"Oh," said his wife, and she gasped a little. He was not sure if she was gasping because of what his hand was doing to her lovely body, or at the idea that she would have to be the one taking the initiative in their lovemaking.

He continued then to touch her, lavishing her with kisses until she began to whimper. "Sherlock, please," she entreated as she gasped and arched very satisfyingly into his body.

Then the prince pulled down the bedcovers, assisting his wife to position herself so she was above him. He let out a groan when she enveloped him in her molten heat, a heat that he had evoked in her.

She was shy at first, moving very slowly, unsure of herself, until his hands clasped her hips and he urged her on, increasing their rhythm together until they were both panting, and finally consumed with bliss from their joining.

Afterwards, she slid to his side as he lay on his back. His arm came around Molly as she rested her head on his shoulder. "That was even more wonderful than I remembered," she said, and the prince heard the note of passion in her voice.

His arm tightened, "I'm sure it will continue to get even better, as we learn more about each other's bodies. I want to spend my life pleasing you, my sweet little princess."

"You already please me so much, more than you know," she responded, as he tilted his head so they could kiss once more.

After their exertions, the newlyweds fell asleep, and were only awakened by a knock at the door of the prince's bedchamber. It was Wiggins, who was ready to dress his master for dinner.

"Just a moment, Wiggins," instructed Prince Sherlock, as Molly got out of the bed to return to her bedchamber and summon her lady's maid to dress her for dinner as well.

Soon the two were ready, Molly dressed in an exquisite gown of rose pink with ruching and bunches of embroidered roses where the gown was gathered. He took her hand and kissed it, before they made their way downstairs to the dining hall. They were the last to arrive, and Sherlock notice the mothers exchanging a knowing look.

He felt his cheeks growing a little pink. It was a little embarrassing that the older women knew exactly what he and his wife had been doing, but he supposed he was being foolish. After all, he would not be here if his parents had not indulged in their own acts of intimacy.

During the sumptuous meal, King Mycroft said to his brother, "We must make arrangements to visit Eurus as soon as you are well enough. I know she looks forward to our monthly visits."

"Yes, I had planned to speak with you about that soon," agreed the prince. "Queen Ruth has expressed an interest in going to see her husband as well, so perhaps we can coordinate a visit to see them both."

The king nodded. "Would three days from now be a good time? Will you be up to travelling in a coach?"

"Of course," Prince Sherlock assured his brother. "My shoulder is much better"

"Dr. Watson told me you have behaved very well, doing exactly as he instructed in regards to your being very careful to not exacerbate the wound. That must have been quite difficult." He gave his brother a shrewd look.

"It was, but all is well now," responded Sherlock, glancing at Molly.

"That is good to hear."

Pleasant conversation ensued, in an atmosphere that felt again relaxed. The older women went off together afterwards, seeming to have developed an immediate bond.

"Well, I have some matters to attend to," said the king, also exiting and leaving his brother and sister-in-law alone.

"Shall we take a walk in the gardens?" suggested Sherlock.

"I would like that, but may we also visit the chapel? I wish to offer a prayer of thanks."

"Of course, my love."

The young couple walked through the lovely gardens, stopping now and then as Molly saw flowers she had not seen on the previous occasion. When they reached the spot of their first kiss, Sherlock said, "I think I should kiss you now, here where it all began for us."

Obligingly, Molly held up her arms to curl them around his neck and pull him down. He kissed her, delighting in the sensation as usual, remembering the incredible feel of their first kiss. It seemed so long ago, yet really it had only been a little over two weeks. He couldn't imagine life without his Molly now. He continued to kiss her until they needed to part in order to catch their breath.

Sherlock took Molly's hand and they made their way to the chapel. He found the spare key and unlocked the door. Golden shafts of the setting sun still illuminated the little sanctuary where they had been married. Sherlock could feel the holiness of the place in a way he had not felt in the past, except of course during his own wedding ceremony.

Princess Molly immediately went to the front pew and sat in an attitude of prayer, folding her hands and closing her eyes. She did not speak out loud, but her lips were moving as she prayed silently, and Sherlock knew she was thanking God for clearing their way to be together, for Sherlock's mother for being instrumental as well in making it happen, even for Mycroft who had been so willing to relinquish the idea of being betrothed to Molly. Of course, it had been to his brother's benefit as well.

Sherlock sat quietly at his wife's side until she opened her eyes and smiled.

"Thank you, Sherlock," she told him, then stood. The chapel was getting dark by the time they left it. The prince locked the door and they returned to the castle.

As they entered, they came upon Sherlock's mother and Molly's.

"Sherlock, dear, I was telling the queen how well you play the violin."

"Mother, you know I cannot play at the moment," he told her.

"Oh, of course, I had quite forgotten. You seem so well recovered."

"I think it will be some weeks before I am able to play again, unfortunately."

The queen mother looked disappointed.

"I shall just have to hear you play some other time," said Queen Ruth brightly. "Perhaps on my next visit. I must return to Bartonia soon after I visit my husband. I have trusted advisors taking care of things for now, but I must get back to my own duties. It will be strange to be doing things alone again."

"Mama, you are a wise queen. My stepfather may have made you submit to his will, but now you can go back to ruling the way you did with Papa."

"That is so," responded the Bartonian queen. "I suppose the two of you will need to learn how to rule Bakeristan eventually as well, if you are to provide the heirs for the kingdom's future."

"Speaking of heirs," spoke up Sherlock's mother. "Should you two not still be on your honeymoon? Why are you coming to the dining hall for meals? You should tell your valet to have them sent up to your bedchamber for the next few days. I can entertain our guest quite well without you."

"Yes indeed," nodded the Bartonian queen sagely. "I think I should be quite happy to only see you next when we visit the asylum."

Prince Sherlock had the distinct feeling that the mothers had been discussing once again the prospect of becoming grandmothers. "Very well," he said, trying to not sound too eager at the prospect of being able to devote all his attention to Molly until the day arrived for them to visit the asylum.

"Well, shouldn't you be heading upstairs with your wife then?" his mother pressed, arching her eyebrow.

"Ah, yes, of course, goodnight Mother, Your Majesty," he said, bowing to the women, then pulling a rather bemused Molly with him upstairs.

Upon entering his bedchamber, Sherlock locked the door behind them. "That was rather embarrassing," he said.

"But they gave us leave to stay here and be...together," said Molly with what he could only describe as a seductive look, to which he immediately responded, pulling her into his arms and kissing her ardently.

"I think I need to practice helping you undress," he told her.

"But, your shoulder...will it not be difficult to unlace my gown and corset?" she asked a little breathlessly.

"I shall manage," responded the prince, as he demonstrated he could indeed accomplish the task. The princess displayed her eagerness also by helping him remove his clothes, being especially gentle not to hurt his shoulder.

"My sweet angel," murmured Sherlock, as he made love to her again. And they fell asleep in deep contentment.

The next three days passed in a whirl of spending most of their time in the large bed, learning about each other's bodies, loving each other frequently. Meals were sent up for them each day as well.

On the morning of the day they were to visit Sherrinford Asylum, Princess Molly said to her husband, "Sherlock, I think..." she blushed, then continued, "I think I may be with child. It is two days past when my bleeding should have begun."

Sherlock hadn't even considered it, but they had been married for more than two weeks, and he knew she could have conceived immediately. He laced his fingers with hers. "I hope it is true, my love. I know it will be a welcome announcement for our mothers. Are there signs besides the absence of your bleeding?"

Molly blushed. "My breasts feel different somehow, a little tender to the touch." Then she added a little impishly, "Of course, that may be because you pay such attention to them."

Sherlock caressed her lovely curves after she said those words, and Molly giggled. "I suppose we shall just have to wait and see. Perhaps, if things continue as they are now, we can venture to inform our mothers before yours returns to Bartonia. For now, though, I suppose we should get dressed. We will be heading to the asylum after breakfast."

Molly sighed a little. "It has been lovely having you all to myself these past three days, but you are right. We should get ready. I shall return to my bedchamber and summon Kaitlyn to dress me."

Sherlock kissed her tenderly, then watched as she left his bedchamber. They had been in a heaven of their own for the past three days, but must now return to reality. He pulled on his bell rope to summon Wiggins. As he waited for his valet, the prince thought about the day ahead.

He did not want to admit it to Molly, but he was a little apprehensive about introducing her to his sister, Eurus. Eurus could be unpredictable at times. She was usually amiable, and music definitely served to keep her in a good mood. Once in a great while, however, she would fly into a violent rage for obscure reasons of her own, lashing out at people she perceived as threats to her wellbeing. She had not had one of those episodes in over a year, however. Sherlock decided he would have to be very gentle in introducing Eurus to his wife, and hoped she would see he was truly happy.

He was still contemplating those things when Wiggins knocked at the door. He unlocked it and let his valet enter and dress him.

Yes, the prince had a feeling it would be a very eventful day.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Finally Sherlock and Molly were able to spend time together again as husband and wife; I hope you enjoyed the romance in this chapter.

Do you like the way the two queens seem to be desperate for grandchildren? I know I shall look forward to that someday.

What is going to happen at the asylum? Any guesses?


	34. The Triumph of Love

As Kaitlyn assisted her into a lovely morning gown of pale blue muslin, Princess Molly thought dreamily about how wonderful the past days had been, getting to know her husband better. His body was so fit, and he was so strong, yet he was always so gentle with her. Being married was a wondrous thing, when you were in love with your husband. Now she understood how her parents had been so happy. She also thought she understood how her mother had been so lonely that she wanted to share her life with someone after her husband's death. The queen could not have known how beastly Culverton Smith truly was.

When the princess exited her bedchamber, her husband was already waiting for her and they went to the breakfast room.

"Ah," remarked the king. "You have emerged from your hibernation."

Sherlock scowled at his brother. "I have been on my delayed honeymoon, you know."

"Yes, yes. I was but teasing you, brother mine. It is good you are here. I thought we should depart for Sherrinford Asylum immediately after breakfast." He looked over at Queen Ruth, who was already there, and had been conversing with his mother. "Would that suit you, Queen Ruth?"

"Yes indeed," responded the Bartonian queen. "I have enjoyed my time here immensely, but should not tarry much longer. My country needs me."

"Of course. I am looking forward to our further collaboration in future."

"As am I," smiled the queen.

The king arranged for a rider to be sent ahead to the asylum, and then he ordered the royal carriage to be readied for the journey. Sherrinford Asylum was a 45 minute journey from the castle.

"I shall not come today," remarked the queen mother, "as you already have Queen Ruth making the journey. Please let Eurus know I shall visit next time."

The king nodded.

"It is unfortunate I cannot play my violin at present," commented Sherlock.

The foursome left immediately after breakfast and arrived at Sherrinford Asylum in good time.

The asylum administrator, a Mr. Stamford greeted them upon their arrival. He bowed to the royal family, then said, "I have arranged a common area for you to visit your sister and for Queen Ruth to visit her husband."

"Very good," approved the king.

"Princess Eurus is currently painting. She has found that to be an absorbing pasttime when she is not playing violin." He looked at Prince Sherlock. "I am sorry you were wounded and are unable to play with her. She is always calmed after a visit when you play together."

"How is Prince Culverton?"

"He has been fairly quiet for several days. He is not considered dangerous, but mutters to himself frequently."

Mr. Stamford showed them to an airy room with large windows. They were barred of course, but due to the number of windows and their size, it was very cheerful and bright in appearance.

Molly saw the dark haired woman immediately. She was standing at an easel, applying fine brush strokes to a painting. **_She was very talented,_** Molly thought. On a table before the woman sat a bowl with fresh peaches. The peaches on the canvas were remarkably realistic. Eurus was using her fine brush to add the tiny hairs onto the image of the peaches.

Before Stamford announced their presence, the woman turned and smiled, paintbrush still in hand, and Sherlock walked towards his sister to inspect her painting.

Prince Culverton, over on the other side of the room noticed the presence of the visitors at the same time.

Queen Ruth moved towards him, but he ignored her, moving instead towards Sherlock.

Molly was suddenly terrified for her husband. There was murderous rage in her stepfather's eyes.

"Why couldn't you just die?" shrieked the man. "You were supposed to die, so Amelia could marry the king!"

Before anyone could even react to the man, who was rapidly approaching Sherlock, Eurus turned to him. With deadly precision she turned her paintbrush around and thrust the fine end into the throat of the approaching madman.

Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds as Molly looked on in horror, along with the other royals. As if in slow motion, Molly watched as her stepfather's hands closed over the hole in his neck which immediately began to ooze with blood.

"I suppose someone should fetch some linen cloths to staunch the wound," said the king, in a rather indifferent tone. An orderly immediately left in search of help. Eurus stood there, smiling in satisfaction.

Molly had the distinct feeling the woman had done what she did to protect her brother. She had known exactly where to aim her brush to make it a deadly wound.

Prince Culverton was gasping, unable to catch his breath as his throat filled with blood. He was choking on it and there was nothing that could be done.

Molly turned her head away to hide against Sherlock's good shoulder. Much as she hated her stepfather, she would not have wished what was an agonizing death like that on anyone.

By the time the orderly returned with linen cloths, the foreign prince was convulsing on the floor, clutching feebly still at his throat as Queen Ruth knelt by him, unsure of what to do. Despite cloths being pressed on the wound it was too late, and soon, the man's eyes became fixed and staring and his body stilled, caught in the silent embrace of death.

Molly had turned her head only as the noise of the man's final gurgles ceased.

It was only then that Eurus said clearly, as if she had been talking for years, "He hurt Sherlock."

"Oh, my God, you spoke," whispered the prince, looking at his sister, even as Mycroft too looked utterly astonished.

"Of course I did," said the Holmes princess. "I have not found it necessary before. Nobody hurts my brother and gets away with it."

Then, she calmly turned back to her painting, seemingly not noticing the blood on the paintbrush still in her hand, and continued to paint, with an absolute lack of concern.

It was then that King Mycroft took charge. Mr. Stamford had been standing, shocked, during the whole sequence of unexpected events. "Stamford," he barked, "we must arrange for the body to be taken away and prepared for burial." He placed a hand on the queen's shoulder. "Under the circumstances, I think it best we do not reveal what has happened here. It may cause unnecessary conflict between our kingdoms. We can say your husband suffered an unexpected fatal heart attack or some such explanation."

The queen stood. "I'm free," she murmured, looking over at her daughter, before responding to the king. "Yes, I think that best too. I will, of course, have to leave for Bartonia immediately to return with Culverton's body."

Molly put her arms around her mother. "I am so sorry Mama, but I must tell you something before you leave."

Before the princess could say more, Eurus turned back to the assembly. "She is with child."

Everyone looked at the woman in astonishment. First, she spoke, and now, she was making deductions, showing her brilliance.

"How could you have known that?" asked Sherlock, even as the queen smiled at her daughter hopefully,

"Is this true, my daughter?"

Eurus merely smiled mysteriously.

It was King Mycroft who offered an explanation. "Eurus is furnished with all the papers from the kingdoms and has obviously seen the news of your marriage, Sherlock. She undoubtedly guessed that it must have been something important your wife needed to tell her mother."

Sherlock said slowly, "She knew of my injury from the papers no doubt, but not what had happened, then must have deduced what happened when the prince shouted at me."

"I am glad he is dead," said Molly in a low voice. "He was an evil man."

"Well, it is not as if my sister can be punished for the action any further, Molly, she is already in the asylum," responded her husband, taking her hand.

Eurus put her paintbrush down and turned to Molly, reaching out a hand towards her.

Princess Molly hesitantly took it, unsure of what the woman was wanting. Unexpectedly her sister-in-law pulled her hand towards herself and then raised it to her cheek. "You made Sherlock happy, sister."

Molly smiled shyly at the other woman. "I love him, I hope I shall always make him as happy as he makes me."

Sherlock wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Of course you will, darling." Eurus gave a bright smile and began to hum the Wedding March.

Soon after, arrangements for the body to be removed had been made and the party headed back to the castle.

Reluctantly, King Mycroft had instructed that his sister be placed in solitary confinement for two weeks to "contemplate her actions." Further punishment was rather pointless. Although nobody would say so aloud, they all felt glad that the evil prince was dead.

As they travelled, Queen Ruth said to her daughter. "My dear, I am so happy for you and Sherlock. I know his mother will be too. I think she will be rather disappointed at being the last to know you are with child."

"It is not absolutely certain yet, Mama," said the princess, rather shyly.

King Mycroft patted his brother on the back. "Well done, brother mine. And to think that less than a month ago we were discussing you not wishing to ever marry. Here you are, already providing a future heir for the kingdom. Mother will be delighted."

"As Molly said, it is not yet certain," said Sherlock, who was, however, unable to keep a smirk of pride off his face.

When the foursome arrived at the castle, the queen mother was immediately summoned and all that had transpired was explained to her.

"Oh, I wish I had been there to see him meet his end, such a vile man."

"Mother, you should not say such things in front of his widow," reprimanded King Mycroft.

"Ha," snorted his mother. "Queen Ruth told me herself of what she has endured at his hands. She is well rid of him." Then she linked arms with the not-so-grieving widow.

"We also have some news Mother," Prince Sherlock said. "Molly and I were not planning to announce it so soon, but when we knew Molly's mother must leave to return home soon..."

"Is your wife with child?" interrupted his mother, with a delighted smile.

"We believe so, although of course, it is too early to be certain," responded the prince, with a tender look at his wife.

"Oh my dear," she gushed, releasing her hold on Queen Ruth to embrace her son, and her daughter-in-law. "This is such wonderful news!" Turning to Molly's mother, she said, "Ruth, we are going to be grandmothers, is this not an auspicious day?" The women looked at each other and smiled.

After a very satisfying luncheon, preparations were made for Queen Ruth to leave for Bartonia.

First of all however, King Mycroft requested the presence of his mother, brother, sister-in-law and the Bartonian queen.

Once everyone was assembled in the drawing room, the king began to speak.

"Before the queen returns to Bartonia, we have some matters to discuss about the future of our two kingdoms."

Molly listened in astonishment as the king began to explain to her and Sherlock what he had already discussed with her mother and mother-in-law during their absence.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, start your deductions - what does King Mycroft want to speak about?

Were you glad to see the end of Culverton Smith after all, and did you like the addition of Eurus to the mix?

If you enjoy my writing style, please support me with your review. All reviews encourage me, even the negative ones which help me improve my writing, or even a simple "good chapter." Pay it forward and make me smile. Maybe someone will do the same for you.


	35. They Touched Heaven

Sherlock sat patiently on the sofa next to Molly, holding her hand. He was curious as to what his brother meant in regard to the future of their two kingdoms.

Mycroft began to speak. "Sherlock, Molly, you have a great decision to make. With Prince Culverton's death, the future of Bartonia may be different than it would have been, had he remained alive and wed to Queen Ruth. As you know, I have no desire to wed, and your marriage has assured Bakeristan a future monarch through you, rather than myself. In time, upon my death, you or your firstborn son would inherit the title of king. However, the death of Queen Ruth's husband has now opened up different options for you."

Sherlock looked at Mycroft uncomprehendingly. Different options? What could he possibly mean? "I don't understand, Mycroft."

"I shall allow Queen Ruth to explain the laws of Bartonia, as she is the one who obviously is most familiar with them." He nodded at the queen, who began to speak.

"Under the laws of Bartonia, the firstborn child, whether male of female can inherit the title, just as Queen Victoria is the queen of England due to her bloodlines, rather than the next male heir in line."

"I know that, Mama," replied Molly. "I understand that eventually I would become queen."

"Yes, Molly, but you could not be queen of two kingdoms at once."

Sherlock listened to his mother-in-law and suddenly realized what she was saying. "So, if Molly had married my brother, and become queen here, her claim to the throne of Bartonia would have been negated?"

Molly's eyes widened in surprise as she looked at Sherlock. "I never thought of that - is this true, Mama?"

"Your husband is correct. I believe that is why Culverton was so insistent that you marry the king, and why he was so upset when you married the prince. You see, by our laws, your husband, unless a king himself, would be eligible to be crowned king of Bartonia with a coronation ceremony, rather than just be your prince consort as my husband was. Culverton could never become king because you were already heir to the throne."

"Do you understand what the queen is saying to you, Sherlock?" asked Mycroft.

Sherlock answered, "I believe so." He looked at his mother-in-law. "Are you saying I would be eligible to become the king of Bartonia with Molly as queen? Surely that would not occur for many years anyway. You are still queen."

Queen Ruth responded, "If Culverton were alive, that would be true. However, now that he is gone, I can choose to step down from the throne in favour of my daughter - and you."

Sherlock could not believe what he was hearing. Could he really rule a different kingdom? He knew very little of his wife's country. He felt Molly squeeze his hand and he looked at her.

"Sherlock, if you are willing, I know my mother and I would both be willing to guide you if we were to rule together."

"But what about Bakeristan?" he questioned, looking at Mycroft. "If I were to leave, would you not be in the same predicament of requiring an heir?"

"That would depend on you, brother mine."

"How so?"

"As ruler of Bartonia, your firstborn son would be a von Hooperstein, to preserve the lineage of the Bartonian royal line. Your second son, however, would retain the right to be heir to Bakeristan, my heir, as it were. You would relinquish your own right to the kingdom because you would be king elsewhere."

Sherlock tried to process this information. "If I choose to not go to Bartonia?"

"That is of course your right," responded Mycroft. "However, your wife would need to renounce the throne in Bartonia, and her nearest living male relative would inherit the title upon her mother's death."

"I think my wife and I must have time to discuss this in private," said Sherlock.

His mother came over and took his hand. "Sherlock, I know this is a big decision. I would be very sorry to not have you close by, but you must follow your heart."

Mycroft said solemnly, "I wish I could give you more time, but I will need your answer by this evening, because Queen Ruth will be leaving at that time to return to Bartonia with her husband's body. If you are to accept the throne of Bartonia as is your right, arrangements will need to be made for your coronation there."

Sherlock nodded. "I understand." Taking Molly's hand, he exited the drawing room. "Let us go into the garden and discuss this," he told her.

They exited the castle and went to the gazebo, sitting on one of the benches inside it. "What do you think, Molly? What do you want to do?"

Molly took his hand in hers. "It must be your decision, my love. However, if I may say so, I think you would be a fine ruler. I know how brilliant you are, and how quickly you could learn about our country and its laws."

"And you would be willing to relinquish one of your sons to become ruler here, away from you when the time comes?"

"Our son," Molly reminded him. "I know how important it is for Bakeristan to also have a future ruler. I am prepared to do whatever you wish, relinquish my right to the throne if necessary, or relinquish our son to the throne here when the time comes. As long as i am with you, I am completely content, wherever that may be."

"My love, with your support, I believe I could do anything," Sherlock declared. Then, taking Molly in his arms, he kissed her until he could feel the heat rising within himself, the need to be closer to her. "I will go to Bartonia, my love. But for now, all I wish to do is go to heaven, with you in my arms. Let us retire to our bedchamber until dinnertime, and we shall give our answer."

Taking Molly by the hand, they made their way into the castle once again. "You know," he confided, "I really dislike the two bedchamber thing. When we are in Bartonia, we shall share one room always."

"Of course, I would like that above all else, but for now - which bedchamber do we use?"

Sherlock chuckled. "I suppose we shall have to take turns. I believe it is my turn to come to you. Summon your lady's maid to assist you to undress and get into bed. I would undress you myself, but I should probably wait a little longer until my shoulder is fully healed. Last time, I experienced a little discomfort afterwards, and that corset of yours is a most irritating thing to unlace."

He left her at the door to the bedchamber and went into his own, summoning Wiggins as usual.

Sherlock found his shoulder was not aching much anymore. He still favoured that arm a little, but it did not prevent him from enjoying the delights of Molly's exquisite figure.

After Wiggins had helped Sherlock to remove his jacket and shirt, he dismissed the valet and removed the rest of his clothes himself, then put on a dark red velvet robe. He allowed a few extra minutes to make sure Molly's lady's maid had finished with her mistress, then slipped through the communicating door to her bedchamber. He drew in his breath at what he saw.

His naughty wife was on the bed, rather than in it, and she was completely naked. His heartbeat accelerated immediately as his body responded to the sight. His eyes raked over her figure hungrily.

"Do you like what you see?" she murmured seductively. He had never seen her so...wanton.

"Oh, my love, you continue to surprise me," he managed, discarding his robe immediately and settling his own naked body on the bed beside her.

She opened her arms for his embrace and he kissed her hungrily, allowing the flames of passion to burn brighter and brighter, feeling her own response as he caressed her body, and together they touched heaven as Sherlock made her his again in a union so perfect it could only have come from God.

Later, when they had got under the covers to rest, and Molly was encircled in his arms, Sherlock asked, "Are you sure I could be a king? I never wished for the position when Mycroft constantly plagued me about it. Of course, that was when I did not think I would ever love anyone the way I love you."

"You will be a wonderful ruler, Sherlock, and our two kingdoms will grow closer as a result."

He kissed her hair. "You shall have to pray for me, my darling. I know God answers your prayers."

"As He can answer yours as well, my love."

"I suppose I will have to keep my promise."

"What promise?"

He chuckled. "Well, not a promise exactly. I just decided if we should be fortunate enough to be allowed to be together, that I would go to church."

She giggled. "I'm glad. I want our children to know God as well. It is important to me."

His arms tightened around her. "And what is important to you is important also to me."

They slept then, until it was time to dress for dinner. Once they were both ready, Sherlock offered his arm to Molly and they walked downstairs.

Their mothers and Mycroft were already there and they looked at the couple expectantly.

"My wife and I have discussed matters," said Sherlock, "and we have agreed that what is best for our kingdoms is that I shall go to Bartonia."

Queen Ruth clasped her hands together and said, "Oh, I am so glad! I know you will make a fine ruler, and I am sure my daughter can teach you anything you need to know in order to rule wisely and well."

Sherlock's mother looked at him. "I am proud of you, my son, but I shall miss you. And of course I will be sad to be so far away from my grandchildren."

"Then you must visit often, Mother," Sherlock responded with a smile.

"That is settled then," said Mycroft, with an approving nod. "Queen Ruth, would you be amenable in allowing my brother a last week here to say farewell?"

"Of course," she responded graciously. "It will take at least three months to deal with the legalities of me stepping down from the throne and arranging the coronation of my son-in-law, perhaps four. In fact, it will need to be a double coronation, because my daughter will become queen at the same time. There will be many documents to sign, dignitaries to invite and the like. Once the prince arrives, he can meet with our royal advisors and learn the duties of the king."

Mycroft nodded. "Very good. I see there will be some busy months ahead of us."

After Molly's mother departed for Bartonia later that evening, Sherlock asked Molly, "Would you like to come to Holmes Village and see John and his wife? You can meet their baby daughter, Rosie."

"I'd love to," enthused Molly. "It would be nice to see a baby, especially if we are to have one of our own in a few months."

He smiled at her. She was such a caring, sensitive woman. Molly would be a wonderful mother.

Upon arrival at the Watson cottage, the housekeeper, Mrs. Hudson, opened the door to the prince and showed the young couple to a small sitting room.

John looked at his friend curiously. "Sherlock. How have things been going? And you too, Molly?"

"Exceedingly well, my friend," responded Sherlock. "Is Mary here, and the babe?"

"Of course. They are in the back garden."

"Can I send Molly to them? I should like a quiet word with you. Molly is most anxious to meet the baby."

John gave him a shrewd look. "Is that because she hopes to have one of her own in the near future?"

The prince flushed. "Well, we are hopeful that Molly is already with child."

"You certainly didn't waste any time, did you?" commented John with a grin.

Sherlock huffed. "Is it so unusual I should wish to have a child with my wife?"

"Not at all. I'm still getting used to the fact that you have a wife at all, and that you fell in love after all that nonsense about being married to your work."

"I had no emotional context from which to draw any other conclusion, until I met Molly," he defended.

"Fair enough. I'm very happy for you anyway, mate. So what's so urgent you needed to come up and see me tonight?"

"Well," Sherlock hesitated. "Have you ever found life in the village to be a bit dull? Have you ever longed to see more of the world?"

"What's this about?" his friend asked suspiciously. . "Does it have something to do with the death of that awful stepfather of Molly's?"

"Ah, you heard about that then?"

"Word gets around; nobody knows how it happened though."

"Suffice to say, his death was a welcome one, and richly deserved.

Anyway, in answer to your question, I am here indirectly as a result of the man's death."

"Go on," pressed John.

"Well, with the prince consort's death, it appears the throne of Bartonia can have a king once more."

"What do you mean? Spit it out, old chap."

"Queen Ruth has decided to step down in favour of Molly assuming the throne - and I shall be the king, after a coronation ceremony."

John looked at him in astonishment. "You? I thought you hated the idea of being a king?"

"It is not a position I would seek, but I am willing to do it for Molly's sake. This move will give greater stability to our kingdoms, and strengthen our alliance."

"I can understand that, but what does it have to do with me?"

"I wanted to know if you would consider moving to Bartonia, to be the royal physician? I trust you with my life, and I would trust you to deliver my child as well, when the time comes. Of course, you would be given a much larger cottage than the one here, and you would be well paid. To be honest, you are my best friend, and one of the only ones I have. I'd miss your company if you stayed here."

John seemed to be finding it hard to know what to say. Finally, he managed, "I'm honoured that you think of me that way. I'd miss your company too. I would be willing, but I must speak with my wife about it first. If she is agreeable, then yes, we will come."

"Of course you must speak with her," agreed Sherlock.

The men walked together to the back garden. Sherlock saw that Molly was holding little Rosie and his heart leapt at the sight. She seemed so comfortable with the baby, a natural mother, he thought.

John went over to talk with his wife, while Sherlock did the same with Molly. "How's my goddaughter today?" he inquired of the baby, who merely dimpled up at him and tried to grab a lock of his hair.

"She's your goddaughter? Even though you did not believe in God?"

"Silly, is it not? John insisted. I shall endeavour to do better at it from now on. Holding a baby suits you," he said, and she blushed.

"Sherlock, I so want to be a mother."

"I have asked John if he will be the royal physician at the castle in Bartonia. If he agrees, he will be there to deliver any babies we have. That is what he is talking about now with Mary."

"Oh," she said softly. "It would be lovely for you to have a friend close by, and I would like to get to know Mary better. She seems very nice."

"Indeed." He took the seat next to her and they waited in silence, both fascinated at the way Rosie continued to tug at his hair and try to pull it into her mouth to suck on it.

Soon afterwards both John and Mary walked to them.

Without preamble he said, "We'll come."

Sherlock was delighted. He knew what a big decision it was to uproot oneself from the only home you had ever known, as he was doing it himself. "I am well pleased, John. Thank you - to both of you."

Mary smiled at him. "We are rather fond of you, Sherlock, you know. I have no family, and John's sister lives close to the border of these two kingdoms. It will be an adventure."

"It most certainly shall be,"agreed Sherlock. "Take as much time as you need to settle things here. Molly and I will be leaving in a week, but the coronation, I am told, will take months to arrange."

"I think we should be able to leave in less than a month. I have been training a young man who will be able to take over from me, so the timing is most fortuitous. I will introduce him as my successor and then we will travel to Bartonia."

"Excellent," approved Sherlock.

Soon thereafter, he and Molly returned to the castle.

The next few days were spent in a frenzy of packing and saying goodbye to the various tenants of farms in the vicinity. Of course, Sherlock and Molly spent many an hour alone as well. The princess's trousseau, the last of which was delivered only two days before they were due to depart, was also packed for the journey.

And finally, amidst tearful in the case of the queen mother and stoic in the case of the brothers' farewells, Sherlock and Molly left for Bartonia to start their new life together.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Sounds like a nice end doesn't it? Well, it isn't, quite. I just have to do the coronation, an epilogue - and of course, Molly waking up. Almost done though. I hope you've been enjoying the ride.

Do you like the idea of Sherlock becoming a king and ruler? I hope you also enjoyed seeing John, Mary and Mrs. Hudson. Rosie of course, is obsessed with Sherlock's curls, as all females are.

Did you like the insertion of canon? Gotta keep it an authentic Sherlock story rather than a generic romance!

Would you like to see more of this type of story from me?

Revisions made for better flow 7/2/18 Switching to italics as this is a dream.

 **7/28/19** Removing italics because italics are a pain to read! Minor corrections made.


	36. The Coronation of Love

Princess Molly yawned and snuggled into her husband's embrace. Three and a half months had gone by since she had returned to her family's castle in Bartonia.

"Good morning, my love," said Sherlock before placing an affectionate hand on Molly's obviously increasing abdomen. "And good morning to you too, little one."

"Today is the big day, Sherlock," commented Molly. These last few months had been ones of such wonder and bliss. As she and Sherlock had continued getting to know one another more, both physically and intellectually, Sherlock had proved a fast learner when it came to understanding the laws of Bartonia. He had a gift for retaining knowledge and had already made several suggestions for improvements within the kingdom.

"I know. At least it is only this afternoon."

"Why?" she enquired.

"Because I want to make love to you before we get up." He pressed his body suggestively against her.

"Sherlock, we made love last night before we went to sleep."

"What of it? Today is a new day. I am still catching up on many years of abstinence."

Molly giggled and opened her arms to invite his kiss and his love. She thrilled at his touch. Sherlock had become obsessed lately with her breasts, with the way they had increased in size due to her pregnancy, and she willingly submitted to his gentle caresses along her breasts and the length of her body, before they made love.

Afterwards, they summoned Kaitlyn and Wiggins, who had made the journey to Bartonia as well.

Although they shared the queen's room now, Queen Ruth having removed herself to a bedchamber in another wing, Sherlock kept his clothes in the king's room and would go there to dress while Kaitlyn assisted her mistress.

Kaitlyn dressed Molly in an elegant morning gown. Her sumptuous coronation gown would be worn after lunch before they made their way to the largest church in Bartonia.

When Molly exited her bedchamber, the prince, soon to be king, was waiting for her. He held out his arm and she took it. An early luncheon was being served in the dining hall.

Several dignitaries from neighbouring countries had been invited for the pre-coronation meal. Mycroft and Sherlock's mother were also present, having arrived two days earlier.

During the meal, most of the talk was about what would be happening later that day, and the huge reception to follow at the castle.

Several times, Molly glanced at Sherlock. He seemed completely relaxed about the whole impending affair, but she was very nervous that she would make a mistake.

Once the meal was completed and people rose to return to their various lodgings, from which to dress for the coronation, Sherlock's mother approached Molly.

"You look very well, my dear. I meant to tell you that earlier. I hope Sherlock has been looking after you. You have not been overly stressed, have you? I well remember when I was with child, and how my husband took great care to make sure I was comfortable."

Molly glanced over at Sherlock, who was talking to his brother. "Sherlock is a wonderful husband. He is most solicitous of our baby and myself."

The man himself came over then and asked, "Did I hear you mention my name?"

"I was just making sure you are taking care of your wife and unborn child," said his mother with a smile.

Sherlock put an arm around Molly. "Of course I am, Mother. I would do anything for Molly and our child."

The elderly woman gave him a big smile. "It warms my heart truly, to see you settled this way, my son."

He gave a short laugh. "I hope you will be so happy when Mycroft tells you his news."

The king came up to them then and the queen mother asked, "What is going on, Mycroft? What have you been discussing with your brother?"

"Merely ensuring my brother is still ready to relinquish one of his future sons to Bskeristan, because I shall definitely not have children. My future wife is past child-bearing age."

Molly looked at her brother-in-law in as much astonishment as the queen mother.

"I suppose you have decided to make your long-time mistress your wife? Lady Smallwood?"

"Indeed I have," said Mycroft. "I have seen my brother's happiness, and have decided o make an honest woman of her. She has demanded nothing of me these past two years. Now that I am no longer required to marry and produce heirs, thanks to Sherlock, I wish for a little happiness for myself."

Moly looked at Sherlock, who was smiling in a knowing fashion.

Undoubtedly that had been what the brothers had been discussing.

"Then I suppose I shall have to offer you my congratulations," said the queen mother, with an almost tender smile for her older son. "I am sorry you will not have your own children, due to your future wife's age, but I shall be glad to see you also settled."

"Well, I do not wish to detract from today's events," said Mycroft. "I think it is time we dress for the coronation."

"Indeed," agreed the queen mother.

By that time, the dining hall had completely emptied, and Sherlock and Molly walked back upstairs together.

"Are you feeling okay, my darling?" he asked.

"Just a little nervous," she admitted.

"I'll be there with you. You need not fear anything."

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I know."

A short time later, Molly looked at her reflection in the full-length looking glass in her bedchamber. She was dressed in a truly magnificent gown. It was the colour of ivory with gold embroidered throughout. The décolletage had a neckline that showed off the curves of her figure. The full skirt hid her expanding waistline quite well as well.

Sherlock came into the room and stood behind her, his reflection in the mirror causing her to turn and catch her breath. He looked magnificent. He wore a royal uniform of deep red with golden thread embroidered on the magnificent tailcoat.

"Oh, Sherlock," she breathed, "you look magnificent!"

He took her hand and raised it to his lips, "And you, my darling, take my breath away. The gown is lovely, but even more so because you are wearing it."

She sighed happily. "Thank you, my love. Shall we go?"

The Royal entourage, led by the carriage in which Sherlock and Molly sat, made its way through the capital city until it arrived at the enormous church.

Moly, looking at it, thought it beautiful, but privately decided she still preferred the small, intimate chapel in which she and Sherlock had been wed.

Two thrones were at the front of the church, on which Sherlock and Molly sat.

The coronation proceeded smoothly, much to Molly's relief. She and Sherlock were anointed with oil and prayers were lifted up that she and the prince would be wise rulers. Two ceremonial crowns were then produced, the larger laid on Sherlock's head, and the other on Molly's.

Soon afterward, they were proclaimed King and Queen of Bartonia. Shouts of "God save the king! God save the queen!" came from the assembled throng, and it was done. Bartonia had a new king and queen. Queen Ruth was now the queen mother and she looked only too happy to have relinquished the title to her daughter and son-in-law."

Many congratulations followed, and the enormous reception took place back at the castle. Speeches were made and gifts presented to the new king and queen.

It felt to Molly as if everyone she had ever known was there. The atmosphere was one of excitement for the future of the kingdom. The festivities continued until midnight, when King Sherlock finally rose to indicate it was time for the reception to end..

People began to return to their lodgings for the night; other special guests retired to prepared bedchambers at the castle. One bedchamber however had been restored to its use as a laboratory.

As the new queen reached her bedchamber with her husband, she asked, "How does it feel to be king of your own kingdom?"

"Oh my darling," he said, "you are already the queen of my heart, and have made me the king of yours. That is more important to me than any title." He took her in his arms and kissed her lovingly, then assisted her to remove the opulent ceremonial gown, followed by the rest of her clothes, before shedding his own with her help. Finally he demonstrated that she was indeed queen of his heart and that nothing else mattered in the world at that moment but them and their love for one another.

* * *

 **Epilogue**

Several years passed. The king and queen of Bartonia were blessed with twin sons, followed by three more boys. Queen Molly would have been content with their family unit, but King Sherlock insisted he wanted at least one daughter. To his wonder and delight, they were blessed finally with twin daughters, making seven children in all.

"Seven is such a nice number," Sherlock told Molly fondly, kissing her cheek a few hours after she had laboured to give birth to their twin daughters, ably assisted by Doctor Watson.

Molly gave a tired sigh. "Thank God we have daughters now. I could not have borne any more children; my body is weary from all this birthing."

Sherlock kissed her again on the cheek, then took one of the babes from her, as the other lay contentedly suckling at her breast. He put his finger in the tiny baby's mouth, but she immediately began to whimper, realizing there was no milk to be had, so he returned her to latch onto Molly's other breast.

Once the babies had fallen asleep, Sherlock called their sons into the room to view their new sisters.

Molly and Sherlock looked at their family, then smiled contentedly at one another. The future looked very bright indeed.

* * *

 _ **Back in the Real World**_

At 221B Baker Street, Molly opened her eyes and smiled contentedly at her own dear husband. As if her gaze was enough to rouse him, he opened his eyes, smiling lazily back at her.

"Did you finish your dream?" he asked in his deep voice that never failed to thrill her senses.

"Oh I did, and it was very satisfying. Do you want to know the story?"

"Of course," he responded, "and don't leave anything out either." He gave her a swift kiss, then waited for Molly to tell her tale.

* * *

 **Author's note:** So, we have come to the end of the tale of the prince and princess. I apologize for the length, but I hope you have still enjoyed it enough to leave feedback.

Of course, there is one last chapter to follow, this time in the real world, if you wish to read it.

I watched Queen Elizabeth's coronation ceremony in "The Crown" on Netflix to try and portray the coronation with some accuracy.

 **7/28/19** Italics removed. Small corrections made. Just because this story has been complete for a long time, doesn't mean I don't still appreciate reviews. In fact, it was due to a review that prompted me to return to this and make corrections!


	37. Joined by Love

Molly lay in bed next to Sherlock, gathering her thoughts in order to describe all of the elements of the dream she had had.

"If you don't get on with the story, Molly, I'm going to get on with more productive things," Sherlock warned, giving her a seductive glance.

"Give me a minute, it was a very long dream. I have a lot to explain."

"I already know about my prince counterpart and your princess counterpart getting married, supplied Sherlock helpfully. "Did the evil step-father get his just desserts?"

Molly furrowed her brow. "When did I tell you that? When I woke up, you got mad that I called you my prince."

Sherlock frowned at his wife. "Are you seriously trying to tell me you forgot about waking up again after the wedding, telling me about them getting married, and getting sick as well? Oh, and don't forget the part where you asked me to pretend you were an innocent virgin who was ignorant of the sexual act, as the princess was."

Molly peeked at him from under her lashes. "Of course I remembered, I was just testing to see if you did."

"Little vixen," he said, pulling her close and giving her a sensual kiss that curled her insides.

She struggled to extricate herself from his embrace. "You need to not do things like that if you want the story. Otherwise the dream will fade and it will be too late."

"Well, go on then," he grumbled.

"Okay. To backtrack a bit, I don't think I told you that Mary was still happily married to John in this one. It was nice to see her again, even if it was only in a dream." Sherlock nodded for her to continue.

"Anyway, after the wedding night, the princess's stepfather came into her room and found her in bed with the prince. Presumably he did not know they were married, and he hit her with his whip."

"This was certainly an angsty dream," commented Sherlock.

"It was. So then the prince jumped out of bed and wrestled the whip away from Culverton Smith's hands. Oh, and one interesting thing - Prince Sherlock was naked of course."

Sherlock huffed. "First you dream of a prince, then you dream of a naked one."

"If it helps at all, his body was as beautifully formed as yours - identical in every way."

Molly laid a hand on her husband's chest, dancing her fingers across his skin, and Sherlock grabbed it, stopping her. "Now, _you_ are the one misbehaving, Mrs. Holmes. Keep going with your story. What happened next?"

"Prince Culverton challenged the prince to a pistol duel the following morning. When the duel happened, he cheated and fired early, but the princess's cry warned her husband and he turned, so he only got a bullet to the top of his shoulder, and Smith was carted away by Lestrade to an asylum because he was crazy, yelling that the prince deserved to die."

"All's well that ends well, I guess." He nibbled playfully at her ear, and Molly pulled away impatiently.

"Sherlock, that was not the end of the dream! The poor prince had a few tough days of recuperation before he and the princess could be together again."

"Sounds like what I went through when we were engaged, wanting you and not being able to have you."

Molly giggled. "I suppose so, but I think in a way it would be a lot harder to stop being intimate once you have begun."

"Perhaps. Although it was no picnic for me."

"You know it wasn't any easier for me, Sherlock. But don't you think I was worth waiting a few measly weeks for?" She batted her eyelashes at him.

"Molly, I am starting to think you do not want to finish this story. You are doing everything you can to distract me." He trailed a hand across the side of her body and she quivered.

"I'll be good! Let me finish!" She stilled his wondering hand, albeit reluctantly. His hands always evoked such delicious sensations within her body. "Anyway, the princess's mother came to visit and wanted to see her husband who was incarcerated at - get this - Sherrinford Asylum, and your sister was there too. So everyone went to visit - the princess's mum to see her crazy husband, and everyone else to see Eurus, because the family visited her every month."

"I suppose my sister somehow killed Smith?"

"Gosh darn it, Sherlock. Why did you have to spoil it? But you don't know how she did it."

"Indeed not."

"She stabbed him in the throat with the thin back end of her paintbrush."

Sherlock snorted. "A rather unlikely scenario."

"It was a dream, Sherlock," Molly pointed out.

"So now are we finished?" asked Sherlock, reaching for Molly again, tracing the curve of her lips, which tingled at his touch.

"Almost," said, making a grab for his hand and holding it fast. It was getting more difficult to concentrate on the task at hand, when he kept tantalizing her that way. "The prince was offered the kingship if Bartonia, and told he could have one son to rule there and one to give to Bakeristan after King Mycroft was no longer able to rule."

"Bartonia? Bakeristan?" laughed Sherlock.

"Hush, I'm almost done. So the prince and princess went to Bartonia and had a joint coronation. Then there was a scene shift to a few yearsmyears later, which showed they had twin sons, then three more boys. Oh, and Prince Sherlock insisted on keeping going to have a daughter - sound familiar?"

Sherlock chuckled. "I am still of the same mind-set, Molly, my love. But I sincerely hope we are not having twins now - first I dreamed of having twins, now you too. So, did they have a daughter then?"

"Actually in the final scene, Princess Molly had just given birth to twin daughters. And guess what Prince Sherlock said?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Presumably- 'Seven is such a nice number'?"

"You got it. And the poor princess said it was just as well she had daughters because she was all worn out from birthing. Now I'm a bit scared, Sherlock. How is my body going to handle it?"

"You are going to be just fine, my love. I will be with you every step of the way. Besides, we already discussed the benefits of having an epidural. All the joy of giving birth without having to experience the unnecessary pain that goes along with it."

"Some women think having an epidural is cheating."

"Nonsense, you know I researched it and it is very safe. Besides, the midwife even agreed. So, _now_ are we finished with this dream conversation? I am very anxious to move on to some delightful non-verbal communication with you." This time, when Sherlock's hand's came up to cup her face, Molly did not push him away.

"Non-verbal communication it is," she said, sliding over to her husband to press her body against his.

Sherlock lowered his lips to hers and kissed her slowly, lingeringly. His hand moved along her body, causing her to press even closer in mute response.

Then there was nothing but whispers and murmurs of passion as they were once again joined by a love so powerful, it could only have come from God.

 **THE END**

* * *

 **Author's note:** Dear reader, I hope you found this a satisfying conclusion to the story. This story twisted and turned and ended up a lot longer than I expected. If you've made it all the way to the end, I encourage you to share your thoughts about the story in general. Even if you think it dragged on too long, I'd like to know what you thought of the pace. I think slowing this to once a week may have turned off some readers. Unfortunately, carpal tunnel makes it increasingly difficult for me to keep up with everything, and I apologize for that.

Do you find the dream idea confusing or do you like the way it is different from other stories? Do you follow any of my other stories? Would you read more dreams?

Blessings.

 **GoodShipSherlollipop**


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